


Daydreamer

by Pence



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Trauma, Friends to Lovers, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Psychological Horror, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2019-07-07 20:54:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 67,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15916062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pence/pseuds/Pence
Summary: Large purple bruises twined prettily around the corpse’s throat, every finger defined in perfect cruelty. His eyes tore away from the handprints as a cold finger traced the lightning strike scar across the center of his face—drawing his attention to a small, blue lipped smile.“Do you think you’ll ever leave this town, Gavin?”________When a series of Detroit murders are linked as originating in his hometown, Gavin Reed is unwillingly assigned the case. Fowler insists that his history with the place and people will hugely benefit such an investigation.He was fucking wrong.





	1. Freckles

**Author's Note:**

> I am very inconsistent in updating fics but I have chosen to write smaller chapters if only to keep it easier on myself. This fic is loosely based on the book 'Sharp Objects' by Gillian Flynn. 
> 
> Please be patient with me and I hope you enjoy this shitty circus ride.

 

"Do you think you’ll ever leave this town, Gavin?”

 

 

 

Hooded blue eyes turned from the cloudless heavens to gaze into a sea of freckles. Dark, curious eyes watched the other as the pair bobbed lazily on a makeshift raft; waterlogged, suckled by mussels and chained forever to the lake’s bed—cemented and imprisoned from tide’s call. His own, sunburnt shoulder pressed into its bespeckled neighbor, gaze returning once more to the sky and the few patches of storm clouds on the horizon.

“You bet your ass I’m booking it the second I get the chance,” He whispered dryly, voice barely carrying over the soft lap of water against the dock; rising and falling along calves dangled over the edge. “Maybe I’ll join the army.”

The shoulder pressed against his own quivered as laughter bubbled up from the other teen—the welcome sound mingling with distant thunder. Gavin’s eyes turned to watch the small bob of an adams apple and long fingers failing to cover a shit-eating grin. “You? The Army? You’d be kicked out in the first week--if only because of your—“

“If you call me short, I will push you into the water and hold you under.”

The other boy shifted to lay on his side, rocking the dock gently as he settled a cheek against the palm of his hand, boney elbow digging into soft wood.

“You wouldn’t do that. You love me too much.”

“I hate you.”

“You hate that you **love** me so much.” Gentle mocking twined within the boy’s tone as long fingers poked into his cheek.

Gavin fought the grin that tugged traitorously at his lips. “Go fuck yourse—“

**…**

Screaming. Who was screaming.

Why couldn’t he breathe? Oh god. **Why couldn’t he breathe?**

 

Breathe. Breathe.

 

His fingers grasped desperately into the filmy darkness of the lake as he scrambled for purchase. The waters churned violently, knocking any sense of direction from the teen as oxygen starved eyes searched unblinking for light. Surface. Escape.

Lightning illuminated the lake for the briefest of moments—enough to locate and close his fingers around the platform’s chain. Anchored and desperate, Gavin pulled himself to the surface hand-over-hand and ducked out from under the aggressively rocking dock. He gulped violent, wet gasps as he pulled himself up into the storm, limbs shaking as terror aided fatigue in their battle against calm. His fingers scrambled against the dark-stained raft as he hoisted himself up, nails digging painfully into splintered wood and loosening nails.

Screaming. Who was screaming.

Sobs tore from his throat as he clung to the raft, eyes wide as he searched every wave that crashed against the dock, sending it into another violent lurch. Copper drifted across his tongue with each ragged breath, heartbeat pounding in time with the lancing pain throbbing at the bridge of his nose.  He wanted to be sick as horrified eyes gazed out into the dark expanse of the lake, shore impossibly far from what had once been shallow waters.

A name tore from his throat as he searched the waves with wide eyes, looking for any sign of a sun-kissed limb or dark lock. The storm screamed back at him like a beast cornering prey, waiting to go in for the kill, hunger unquenched. The floor of the lake illuminated with every crack of lightning, revealing everything but the dark eyes and cherished smile he frantically called for.

The dock lurched with another wave and Gavin’s hands slipped, jaw snapping against the edge, tasting blood. But he remained perched upon the broken wood, cold foreign fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist. As he blinked away the nausea and dizziness from his eyes, cold fear coursed through his veins as he stared into a face of deathly purple. A swollen tongue pressed against a cherished smile. Dark, warm eyes clouded over by death.

Large purple bruises twined prettily around the corpse’s throat, every finger defined in perfect cruelty. His eyes tore away from the handprints as a cold finger traced the lightning strike scar across the center of his face—drawing his attention to a small, blue lipped smile.

 

 

“Do you think you’ll ever leave this town, Gavin?”

 

 

 

* * *

 

Muffled drizzle pitter-pattered against the window frame like a lullaby, coaxing slumber in the dark apartment. The tick, tock, tick of a grandfather clock sang in soft harmony with every droplet against glass. Morning chill wandered as an unwelcome guest throughout the room and nipped heat hungrily against toes poking out from under the quilt cocoon heaped upon the couch.   

The melancholy calm, however, was broken from the first choked sob that shook from the blankets--and shattered completely when the mass of limbs fell ungracefully from the couch with a startled bellow. Bone snapped harshly against coffee table.

Frantic, wet curses were the first to emerge from the struggling pile before calloused hands untangled to palm desperately at the floor. Shag carpet brushed kisses over scraped knuckles with every movement; growing slower, repetitive, petting. **Grounded.**

 

He was home.

He was home.

He was **home**.

 

Gavin closed his eyes as he willed his pounding heart to slow and his shuddered breath to calm. Whispered to himself the facts of the here-and-now to banish the downward spiral of which he toed the precipice.

Mottled, dead hands pulling, tearing, binding were instead the soft, quilt he’d traded Tina for during the Detroit Police Department’s unofficial 2035 Secret Santa. **Tina** . His friend... His best friend... His best friend who had **much** preferred the flavorful white mug Anderson had gifted him to Chris’ quilt-- ‘cunt’ written lovingly at its porcelain base like a treasured secret.

The wet chill transformed from deathly lake water to a far too early Autumn morning and a broken heater courtesy of a swift kick from a far too drunk Gavin Reed a few weeks prior. Fuck, even now he couldn’t remembered what had bunched his panties enough to take it out on the one machine that offered him comfort these days.

Probably the plastic prick.

No. _Definitely_ the plast pri--

Sharp pain had the man hissing as he disentangled himself from the mess of blankets on the ground. Shaking fingers brushed against his mouth, coming away pink from a split lip and nicked chin. Must have hit the corner of the table on his way down--fuckin’ thing was too goddamn sharp and littered his shin often enough with bruises to justify a trip to the junkyard.

Most of the bruises, however, had occurred from the stumbling steps of a man too fatigued or drunk--or just too fucking _done_ to care about anything more than the welcome embrace of a well-worn couch. Last night had been more of the intoxicated variety, if the cool glass of a bottle rolled halfway beneath the couch was explanation enough.

Blood smeared uncaring across his cheek as Gavin rubbed against tired, heavy eyes. Tension eased from his shoulders as the memory, nightmare, dream, _whatever_ was banished back into the mountain of repressed shit he saved to deal with on a rainy day; today excluded.

 

‘Raincheck’. _Guffaw_.

 

As his hand dropped to his lap, the man’s eyes narrowed upon noticing a note tucked tenderly beneath a glass of water centered upon the table--both somehow having survived his nosedive to earth. The handwriting was human in its stroke but was far too perfect, precise to be considered natural.

 

> “You should stop drinking, Detective. Remember to pick me up at Hank Anderson’s residence as we previously discussed. Punctuality may not be important to you, but I won’t have you dragging down my track record due to your poor choices. -- **RK900 #313 248 317 - 87** “
> 
>  

A hesitancy could be read within the additional comments scribbled hastily at the note’s base-- a tender afterthought, if such a thing were possible for the android.

 

> “I fed Apollo before I left. Do not let him fool you into thinking he is starving--your cat needs to go on a diet. Please take aspirin and drink some water. I will see you tomorrow.”

 

Rolling his eyes at the note’s contents, Gavin scooped up the pills that had wandered the tabletop from his jostle and popped them onto his tongue. Water ignored, he uncapped the bottle from the floor and knocked back the final dregs of what had once been a shitty, cheap vodka.

Waste not, want not.

The alcohol slid like a warm hug down his well acquainted throat as he leaned his head back into the cushions of the couch, eyes falling shut. As smart as it would be to return back to sleep, especially as the sun was long from deciding to make a grand appearance, Gavin knew that was an impossibility.

A soft dip in the cushion to the right forced his head to lull softly as he cracked open a knowing eye, staring up in the judgmental green of his Russian Blue. An ugly, short snort left the human man as he opened his eyes fully to meet the cat’s gaze. “You are getting fat, aren’t you Apollo?”

The cat seemed unimpressed by the wide grin that spread across the human man’s face, teeth stained pink from his yet-to-be attended to lip. Apollo rumbled as a hand was raised to scritch softly at his chest, eyes growing heavy lidded to match its owners.

“Maybe we both should go on a diet,” Gavin hummed, fingers itching up the cats chin and behind his ears. “But I think we should get you a snack because Nines can blow me if that bastard thinks he can call my cat fat.”

With a soft groan and the crack of his back, the Detective stood and stumbled his way to the kitchenette, stifling a yawn as Apollo followed hot on his heel.


	2. Fly

<06:05:58:22>  
Bionomal Name // Musca domestica

  <06:05:58:22>  
Commonly Referenced Name // House Fly (American)

  <06:05:58:23>  
// This common fly originated on the steppes of central Asia, but now occurs on all inhabited cont--//

<06:05:58:23>  
//When metamorphosis is complete, the adult fly emerges from the pupa. To do this, it uses the ptili--//

  <06:05:58:23>  
//There was an old lady who swallo--//

<06:05:58:24>  
//The Fly (1986) --  Seth Brundle: [to Veronica] Help me. Help me be human.//

 

  
**< Software Instability ^>**  
**< Instability Patched>**

 

  
Had his abdomen been that of flesh and muscle, there may have existed small comfort in the sharp dig of the countertop he leaned into. The cool steel of the sink petulantly fought the digits of his fingers for whatever heat was shared between from chill settled over the home. The android paid little mind to the temperature, uncaring who the victor was in that battle as his own eyes of cool steel continued to watch the small fly beat against the window.

With all of its brethren dying off as Autumn drew closer to Winter, the insect’s continued survival became an insignificant, distracting interest to the man with the ever-buzzing mind. Morning frost and foul weather hadn’t stilled the tiny creatures beating wings or obnoxious curiosity--yet it continued to seek out certain death with every _ping ping ping_  against the glass.

Seeking freedom to a devil unknown.

RK900 remained a silent observer as the fly settled upon the windowsill, time unconsciously slowing between the pair as his pre-construction protocol bled color from the room.

Every twitch of muscle beneath plates of exoskeleton were captured by the flicker of his pupils. The small microscopic shift behind the eyes of a creature too simple to understand the danger looming above it. The translucent, glassy membranes of wings. Beautiful, delicate.

Curious. Unknown.

Color bled back into the world as a cool hand curled gentle against his bicep, causing the briefest of pauses in his processors; startling him more than he would willingly admit.

A pair of warm, apologetic brown eyes met his own as RK900 pulled his arm free from the other’s grasp, silent discomfort passing briefly between the pair.

Of course Connor would speak first.

“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Hm.”

With another knowing glance the younger android loathed, Connor turned to the counter and tucked his thumb beneath the soft plastic lid of a coffee jar, popping it free. RK900 watched his counterpart in silence as the tin was lifted and a deep breath was pulled in through a softly freckled nose.

Sense.

Curious. Unknown.

 

 ** <Software Instability ^>**  
**< Instability Patched>**

 

“I’m sorry that we won’t be able to go with you to the precinct today,” The older android said, once more breaking the morning’s silence as he began to prepare the ancient percolator on the counter. “With crime rates slowing, Hank suggested it was high time he use a vacation day or two and start feeling ‘human’ again.”

RK900’s silence went unnoticed as Connor tapped his chin thoughtfully with the padding of his thumb. “I’m unsure what he means by ‘feeling human again’ but I’m sure it’s an expression of some sort I’ve yet to become familiar with.”

As the perculator began to chug away, the ever-so-slightly shorter android turned a cheery smile to his colder brother.

“Either way, he says we have to ‘use it or lose it’ and considering I haven’t had such an opportunity, I find the concept exciting.”

RK900 rumbled a non-verbal understanding as he turned his gaze once more to the fly that had begun climbing up the glass. He could hear the creaking of aged pipes well before the shower turned on down the hall, signalling that the sleepy home had certainly rested enough.

“Detective Reed has already agreed to collect me this morning. Your apology is unnecessary but appreciated,” He murmured, eyes watching the short path the fly travelled before returning once more to the sill.

“How is it going between you two?” Connor asked as he turned away from the counter only to lean backward into its edge, arms crossing over an aged t-shirt (perhaps a relic from Anderson’s younger days). RK900 glanced over the cracked, faded graphics of what he was assuming had been a band shirt years ago.

“We are… compatible.”

“You certainly work well together but… Well, I mean--”

It was questionable whether or not his hesitancy to clarify the question was born from deviancy or the social protocols that had been ingrained in RK800’s systems from the get-go. Something Cyberlife had made certain RK900 lacked. For better or for worse.

“--my experience with Gavin Reed hadn’t been satisfactory before the end of the revolution. I just want to make sure he’s treating you well, Ni--”

“RK900 is fine.”  
  
A beat. “....RK900.”

The icy-eyed android’s lips pressed into a gentle line as he returned his gaze to the now worried brown of his predecessor. “If you are worried about Detective Reed mistreating me, I can assure you that the concern is misplaced. I do not have the human understanding in defining just what our relationship is beyond the partnership at the precinct-- but I often lean towards trusting the man despite my many ... misgivings.”

“He hasn’t threatened you?”

“We are _best friends_ should I be forced to compare my relationship to Detective Reed with your own.”

RK900 pauses before he mimics the thoughtful gesture Connor had displayed a few short moments ago, tapping gently at his chin in the mockery of thought. “Perhaps he simply finds you annoying.”

A small grin forms on the older androids lips, arms folding ever so tightly in place of a laugh they had both yet to master.

“You’re picking up his mannerisms.”

 

_Beep, beep!_

 

Sharp honking sounded from the front of the house, both androids turning to gaze towards the door. Sumo’s nails clicked and clacked across the linoleum floor as he rose to inspect the disturbance with a ‘boof’. It was far too early to be making such a racket in this neighborhood--sign enough who was waiting outside.

“Perhaps,” RK900 sighed, pushing away from the counter. Reaching out, the android placed the heel of his palm on the windowsill and crushed the fly with the breath of effort.

“ **Or perhaps** I truly am as much of a ‘plastic asshole’ as the Detective insists. Who knows, honestly.”


	3. Cigarettes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say that I really appreciate the lovely comments and reception this has gotten so far. Never been more encouraged to keep up a fic, strangely enough.
> 
> Hope you like whatever follows.

The contrast between the tepid stillness of the house and the wet, biting morning was immediate as RK900 opened the door. Tugging on his jacket more securely, the android unconsciously moved his hand backward into the heavy, fuzzy, curious weight of a Saint Bernard--pushing the large muzzle back into the house with a tut.

It was still a lingering discomfort how domestic his life had become in many aspects, despite having yet to fully deviate from Cyberlife’s programming. What could he cherish from a home, a dog, a well-worn jacket when his emotions were dampered to a mild, stable constant?

He felt like an ungrateful intruder. And to be honest, he was quite sure it was near the perfect description for his existence.

Pulling the door shut with a click, the Android adjusted the cuffs of his jacket as he frowned down at the dark, warm fabric. A gift from Anderson to both of the androids in his home.

 

_“You ain’t their property no more so why not scrap the magic triangles.”_

 

Connor had seemed… joyful at the gift, at the next big step in distancing himself from his origin. His history.

RK900 had simply uttered his quiet gratitude, hating it entirely.

Where Connor saw encouragement, RK900 saw vulnerability. The human man obviously viewed _at least_ Connor by some familial standard--if not romantically, albeit RK doubted he’d ever fully understand the nuances in determining that suspicion non-directly. What RK900 saw instead was the fear of loss should the sharp, bright blue of their uniforms draw attention from those less tolerant.

Since the Revolution, it was more common every day to pass Androids who had entirely rid themselves of identifiers--down to the LED itself.

And where Connor or Jericho or Hank understood hope in this trend, RK900 felt discomfort. Should it not be up to an awakening world to embrace these difference than demand an assimilation to the norm? Is shame expected of him should he walk the streets, skin deactivated for all of Detroit to witness?

Is he not simply playing into his enemies demands by hiding away his identity in fear of repercussion?

 

A gruff call jars the android from his thoughts.

“Yo, Nines. Did you break or something? Jesus fuckin’ Christ. You get an android wet for two seconds and fuckin’ **rust**.”

Perhaps it was far too early for an existential crisis.

RK900’s eyes refocused from the cuffs of his jacket to the human watching him in the driveway.

Tracked the droplets of water gathering and falling from the umbrella perched over the detectives shoulder as his freehand pressed a cigarette to chapped lips. The dry embers of Gavin’s cigarette matches the momentary burn of RK900’s LED as he steps down from the stoop, heels clicking on cracked, wet concrete in their approach. Wind raked gentle fingers through the coif of his hair and stung a pretty flush into the human’s cheeks.

  
**< Software Instability ^>  
<** **Instability Patched >**

  
Pointed dress shoes give a final click-clack as they come to a stop in front of worn boots, close enough to kiss.

“This early?”

Gavin shrugged as the smoke sits for a breaths moment in his lungs, before billowing over a bruised lip into RK’s face. The android turns his head to the side minutely, although the rain licks away the worst of it.

“Call it breakfast.”

Gavin makes no move to stop the android as he plucks the cigarette from the human’s fingers and looks it over beneath the brim of the umbrella. Notes the traces of dried blood as he raises the paper vessel to his own lips and pulls in a drag. Lets the burning chemicals wash over his tongue, eyes falling half lidded as a wave of information floods his senses.

 

<06:37:02:45>  
 --ains over 4,000 chemicals, including 43 known carcinogenic compounds and 400 other toxins. These cigarette ingredients include nicotine, tar, and carbon monoxide, as well as formaldehyde,ammonia, hydrogen cyanide, arsen--

 

“This will shorten your life exponentially,” The android murmurs, noting the way Gavin’s eyes follow his lips as smoke curls into the rain in ribboned swirl. Gazes remain locked as the cigarette is dropped to the ground and extinguished with the practiced grind of the android’s heel.

The detective snorts, rolling his eyes when the the umbrella is taken from his grasp.

“Were you programmed to be this much of a prick, Nines? Didn’t think a million dollar nanny-bot with a silver tongue and sarcastic streak was the solution to stopping an entire revolution.”

If RK900’s lips twitched in perceived amusement, it was certainly a glitch--nothing more.

“And once again, Cyberlife has flirted with failure,” The android hummed, shifting his weight as he reached behind Gavin to grasp the handle of the car door. “Get in the passenger seat, Detective. I doubt Captain Fowler would be pleased if we were any later than necessary should an accident occur due to your _sorry_ condition.”

With a grace only the scrappy detective could possess, a finger is shoved in the android's face as the human clambers backward into the car. Climbing over the console, the human deposits himself into the passenger seat with a not-so-displeased, _displeased_ ‘hmph’.

The android follows suit as the umbrella is clicked shut and tossed as a wet heap into a now spluttering human’s lap. More mild curses are tossed his way and ignored as RK900 fastens his seatbelt, only putting it into reverse when he is certain the human is similarly secured.

A comfortable silence settles over the two as the car is pulled out of the driveway and turned into the slick streets of the city. The radio, not quite muted but turned distractingly low, sings indistingushingly with the squelch of water under tires.

If RK900 were forced to say he liked ‘anything’ despite his non-deviancy, Gavin Reed’s car would likely be on that list. He found it entirely within the human’s character to forgo the more common autonomous vehicles for a manual--control over convenience. It was by no means a fancy or _clean_ vehicle, but in the months since joining the DPD, it had become synonymous with ‘safety’ or ‘comfort’ to the Android.

Whether that be listening to the detective’s rather abrasive taste in music, driving from a crime scene arguing the facts, or simply listening to the soft snores of the human on a stake out--this was something solid he could hold onto and understand in a brand new world of unknowns.

“Don’t expect a thank you, by the way.”

RK900 couldn’t say the same about Gavin Reed.

LED flashing a momentary yellow, RK900 spared a quick glance to the human who leaned heavily into the passenger door, cheek resting in his palm as he stared straight ahead at the streaks of light painted across the wet road. The brief silence following the comment is enough of a request for clarification that the human sighs.

“For feeding Apollo or tucking me in. You shouldnt hav--You don’t _need_ to do that.”

The android’s lips press together as his gaze returns to the road ahead, blinker clicking on as they come upon a turn.

“Despite what you might believe, Detective, your well being outside of work is as much my business as when we are on a case. Do you know how much of a pain breaking in a new partner would be should you die from choking on your own vomit?”

“Breaking in?” Gavin scoffed incredulously, cheek turning in his hand as he stared at the side of the android’s face. “Bitch, I’ve been at this far longer than you. Breaking in my _ass_.”

“Don’t give me ideas,” RK sighs, earning a snort from the human man. The android’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel every so slightly.

“I do hope you take better care of yourself, Detective. Your habits are--”

“My habits are my business,” The human corrects the android, body turning more fully toward the driver as his hand falls into his lap. “Like, I get it if you think we’re friends or something and you want what’s best for me--but that don’t mean you can just intervene in my off hours for your own peace-of-mind.

“If I want to get fucking sloshed at some dive on a Tuesday night--”

Gavin’s phone buzzes in his pocket and is extracted with little pause. A sharp grin bites into corner of RK900’s eyes as the human flips open the phone and accepts the call.

The android ignores the curious tug in his processors as he watches the scabbing on the human’s lip pull with his smile.

 

 **< Software Instability ^>  
** **< Instability Patched>**

 

“--then God Bless America, I will. Not looking for a knight in shining armor, Nines... Hello, this is Detective Reed.”

The android clears his mind and turns his attention more solely onto the road as they near the precinct, listening to the muted grunts of affirmation Gavin makes during the call. A groan brings his attention back to the human as he slumps deeper into the seat, scrubbing his fingers over his eyes.

“Yeah… Send RK900 the address. Mm, yeah, we’re on our way. Thanks Chris.”

Before the android can inquire on the contents of the call, a message pings into his inbox from one C.Miller.

  

> C.Miller (06:58:49:45) <Code 0900 in progress. Address attached. Suspect unknown and time of death undetermined. Victim suspected to have been relocated after mutilation.>

 

RK900’s ever present grimace deepens as he chances a glance to the detective at his elbow, gazes locking as the detective crosses his arms with a shrug. Shaking his head, the android turns off the main road and begins navigation to the crime scene.

“It’s too early for this shit.”

Indeed.


	4. Red Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really glad you guys are enjoying this! This is the longest chapter yet so please forgive me if you notice any mistakes. I've caught as many as I can but will likely be constantly tweaking as I see fit.
> 
> Warning: There is the graphic description of a dismembered corpse halfway through this chapter as well as homophobic slurs.

 

“You did this to yourself, Gavin. Running around in this weather without a coat? You know better.”

 

Delicate, cool fingers raked gently through the child’s sweat-soaked bangs--palm setting against a blazing brow. The bed dipped as the nurse sat next to her down-swathed patient, smiling softly despite her previous accusatory tone.

Gavin sniffled, stomach churning angrily as his body fought off whatever infection clawed through his small frame. Bile scorched an already raw throat as it begged for release. It was a struggle freeing his trapped limbs from the well-arranged blanket cocoon, muscle-fatigued, aching, clawing desperately for escape.

No sooner had the fevered child leaned over the side of the bed did he expel the contents of an empty stomach, knuckles white as he clutched desperately into the edge of the mattress. A bedpan was already waiting and a hand rubbed soothing circles over his shaking shoulders--soft cooing mingling with the child’s quiet, miserable sobs.

“You’ll be okay,” The nurse whispered, replacing the bedpan on a nearby nightstand as she coaxed the child back into his pillows. “It’s just flu season. You’ll be back out with your friends in no time.”

The woman isn’t awarded a response, resigned green eyes watching as Gavin turns onto his side to stare at the large bay windows on the far side of the room. Wide pupils under heavy lids tracked the gentle fall of snow-- gathering against the shutters to create small mountains at the base.

Escape. Relief.

If she could open the windows for the poor kid and cool off the room, she would--if only to expel the lingering smell of sick for both of their benefit.

“How about this,” The nurse hummed, pulling her blonde hair back into a small ponytail as she angled her shoulders to invade the kid’s view. Tired eyes stopped tracking the snow to instead focus on a cheeky grin, weight settling on his thigh as she leaned playfully into him. “When you can keep down food, we’ll go for a small walk in the garden to get some fresh air.”

There is a beat of silence, filled by the slow rasping breaths of the boy.

“I’m gonna die.”

The smile fell from the nurse’s lips as Gavin closed his eyes, pulling the blankets a little tighter around his shivering frame.

A placating hand presses to his back. “It’s only the--”

“I don’t wanna die,” The child whispered hoarsely against a raw throat, brows knitting in wise, aching pain.

“Don’t let me die, Chloe..”

With a sigh, Chloe climbed fully onto the bed and positioned herself behind the quivering lump. Two warm arms wrapped gently around the child, bodies pressed comfortably together in a still embrace. Silence settled over the pair as they watched the falling snow continue to gather at the edges of the paned glass, icicles dangling above like a beast’s maw.

 

“I’ve got you, Gavin. I’ve got you.”

 

\------

 

“We’ve arrived, Detective. Unless, of course, you’d rather stay here to catch up on your beauty sleep.”

The press of cool glass to his aching brow flirted the idea, lids heavy from last night's rocky slumber. It’d be easy too-- yank down the seat out of sight from nosy officers, breathe in the comfortable leather of a draped jacket, let the rain rock him to sleep like a lullaby.

No-can-do. He was too professional for that… No matter how much he needed a good nap despite the early hour. Plus, the large hand that had settled over his shoulder probably wouldn’t have stood for his acceptance of the sarcastic offer. Fucking prick.

“Nothing’ll help my ugly mug.” A resigned, guttural sigh. “Get the fuck out of my car.”

Shrugging out of RK900’s gentle grasp, the human grumbled unintelligible curses to himself as the umbrella was retrieved from the floor. Cracking open the door, Gavin’s boots squelched unattractively as he stepped once more into invasive chill and wet muck.

At least it had stopped raining.

Tossing the umbrella back into the car, the Detective closed the door with the snap of his hip before crossing his arms as he waited for the Android to round to his side. He 'kindly' choose to ignore the previously discarded umbrella tucked under its arm.

Unfortunately the cue wasn’t caught by his partner.

“You humans are surprisingly susceptible to illness, Detective. I’d prefer to continue with our normal casework rather than act as your bed nurse.”

 

_“You know better.”_

 

Gavin’s lips pressed into a thin line, staying uncharacteristically quiet as he turned away to regard the crime scene before them. A row of police cars and emergency vehicles lined the off-ramp -- beeps and honks of angry commuters background noise as they were redirected from their normal route.

Despite the months of negotiations between the “Android Messiah” and the United States government, many of the public sector jobs had yet to be refilled by their previous Android workers. Politicians were likely displeased in having to offer a “living wage” to those who had been subjugated and considered inanimate no more than a year prior.

And of course, those many humans (of whom Gavin chose to hypocritically exclude himself) who had bitched endlessly about rising unemployment rates deemed jobs such as ‘street cleaning’ far beneath them.

Fucking money, man.

All of this political mumbo-jumbo ultimately leading to Detective Gavin Reed having to sidestep a used condom and instead plant his boot into a sole-soaking puddle of filth.

“For fuck sake!”

“When cats start to screech you _know_ Gavin Reed has arrived.”

Chris Miller was a welcome sight in his approach, passing uncaringly through the LED ‘DO NOT CROSS’ tape lined heavily around the area. An ugly, transparent poncho draped over the man’s shoulders, plastic crinkling with every step.

Gavin almost audibly snorted as the plastic squeaked when a friendly, dark hand was extended to him.

“Just because they’re standard issue doesn’t mean you _have_ to use those things, Miller,” The detective chided as their palms slapped together in an old and familiar handshake. A quiet nod from the android was offered to the officer before either had to decide if the same courtesy was deemed necessary.

“Some of us still have to wear uniforms, _Detective,_ and dry cleaning ain’t cheap. Have you already forgotten us small fries from your high, swanky throne?”

“I like to think of it as a golden, righteous pedestal.”

Contrasting expressions cross the human’s faces as RK900 speaks up, long pale fingers adjusting the cuffs of his jacket. “I believe the term you are looking for is ‘high horse’, Officer Miller.”

Miller smiles in genuine amusement, his grin only ‘maliciously’ widening in response to the glower that is shot over the Detective’s shoulder to his impassive shadow.

The officer’s hands clap together, drawing the partners attention back to the task at hand.

“Right. Anyway, ya’ll wanna see a body?”

 

\------

 

Grass tore from muddy earth as the group descended the sharp decline of the off-ramp, heels gouging into dirt with every step. It was a slow-going trek and the detective would never admit his appreciation for the brief press of a large hand to the base of his spine--steadying and careful.

Likely having been forced to make the climb multiple times that day, Chris explained their current understanding with a practiced gait to his step. Gavin offered the man half his attention as he surveyed the rest of the officers milling about the area as they reached the bottom.

The off ramp descended beneath an overpass of the expressway. Unattractive cement walls towered around them and over what had once been considered ‘Old Detroit’. Decrepit buildings and houses lined the streets around them, wood-boarded windows already rotting away into dark, gaping caverns.  

Perhaps it was commentary itself that these buildings had never had the opportunity or forethought for refurbishment, abandoned well before Gavin’s time. Why bother with this shithole when the “new” was constantly revolutionized day-by-day.

It didn’t sit well in his stomach.

“We got a call from one of our regular drifters about finding a body out here,” Chris explained as Gavin’s attention returned from a fading ‘Lou’s Ice Cream’ decal painted on old brick--a happy family licking what were once vibrant, superfluous cones. They had been  long defaced with cocks of various girths and colors, special attention paid to the enthusiastic father’s frozen pop. “You remember Myrtle, yeah?”  
  
Gavin’s hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, snorting unattractively as he nodded. “Haven’t dealt with her crazy since I got promoted. Thought I was a tin can the first time I tossed her in the drunk tank. Didn’t think it was professional to explain that I did indeed have a pen--”  
  
“Do you believe she is a suspect?” RK900 interrupted, a stern glint to his eye as he turned his gaze from Gavin to the amused officer.

“Nah. Myrtle’s pushing into her eighties and can’t weigh more than one-fifteen,” Chris said with the shake of his head, leading them through another section of LED ‘POLICE INVESTIGATION’ tape as they entered the looming shadows of the overpass. “You’ve probably already scanned her file. The most she’s ever been charged with is drug possession and petty theft. Historically she’s non-violent.”

“I would still like to question her.”

The officer offers a nod to the android. “She’s already on her way to the station with Officer Chen.”

Gavin’s fingers run across the spiral of his notebook within his pocket as he trails shortly behind, grimacing softly as filthy rainwater drips onto his cheek from the cavernous ceilings above. The low growl of the soaring morning commuters echoes off the stone walls.

“What was Myrtle doing down here in the first place? Doesn’t seem like the best place to go panhandlin’,” He asked as his next particular step gave a comical gurgle. It took an extra tug to free himself.  
  
“Jericho is buying up a lot of Old Detroit property in the hope of building residence for those displaced after the revolution. One of their earlier developments were a series of shelters for humans and androids alike. We ended up placing her in Saint Judes which isn’t too far a walk from here.”

“You think it worth looking into?”  
  
Chris let out a soft hum as his thumbs looped into the fabric up his pockets, shoulders shrugging nonchalantly. “Wouldn’t hurt. ‘Specially since we got nothing to go off of. I doubt your bot’ll shit a miracle from what we do have.”

RK900’s LED circled yellow for a beat. “I do not require nor have the processes by which to expel waste from my body, Officer Miller.”  
  
Gavin grinned, elbowing his poncho'd friend in the arm. “You hear that? He’s full of shit.”

The patches of mud suckling at their heels began to level into concrete with every step, nearing a group of officers who took pictures and placed down small plastic stands numbering evidence. The wet smell of must and mud began to mingle with that of decay--something Gavin Reed wishes he wasn’t used to despite his chosen career.

That didn’t stop the initial cold shock of fear that rushed across his skin upon finally seeing the body, hairs on end and goosebumps prickling. Maybe it was a reminder that he was still human that the sight of the brutally dismember carcass upset him to this extent.

Or maybe it was just fucked up.

Definitely fucked up.

“Motherfuckin’ Christ.”  
  
“Yup.”

The flesh of the discarded limbs bore a putrid, pale yellow--dark oxygen starved veins  rippling like spider web in what had once been a physically fit man. The festering ends of what were certainly the site of the source amputations were peeling back slowly as decay set in. Darkened flesh and yellow bone cut cleanly.

After a few rapid blinks and the brush of his partner as the Android approached, Gavin cleared his mind enough to retrieve the notebook from his pocket. Pages of observations and thoughts were thumbed through until a clean page was reserved for the mess at his toes.

“This didn’t happen here.”

Gavin nodded in agreement as RK900’s large form crouched over the body, cool eyes undoubtedly gathering information that would have taken his human colleagues hours, if not, days to crack. The body consisted of a headless torso, handless arms, two large thighs and footless calves. Whoever had placed these parts here had not only arranged them delicately into the mockery of its original form but was being careful in concealing their identity.

No figure prints. No dental records. No fucking head.

Great.

“Been dead a few days by the looks of it,” Gavin said, noting the dark blood that pooled thickly beneath the body. Had the murder been a bit more fresh or occurred on site, the Detective knew for a fact a torso that size contained three times the amount of blood. “How long's it been here, Nines?”

No one batted an eye as the android reached down to gently lift one of the victim’s calves, turning it over to view the discoloration of the skin that had been pressed to earth. Rot had flattened the flesh touching the concrete and rigormortis saw to preserving the abnormally flat plane.

“At least thirty-six hours. The victim, however, has been dead for at least five days.”

“Why wait so long to plant him here after killing him?”

The android was silent as he respectfully placed the limb in its original position. Without sparing a glance to his human partner, long fingers dipped into the viscous pool of blood and proceeded to pop between thin, pink lips. Pale eyes flickered to meet Gavin’s own stare as a tongue visually curled around the bloody digit, before the detective looked back to his notes with a disgusted huff.

“There are no DNA matches in DPD records for this individual. I can determine, however, that he had been intoxicated at his time of death.”

“Drunk?”

“Red ice. Its compounds can be found within the man’s bloodstream in copious amounts,” The android explained, rising to his feet in order to move closer to the throat of the victim. “However, this John Doe does not appear to have been a regular smoker. Generally you find visual sores along the esophagus and windpipe of habitual users.”

Gavin’s brows furrowed, pen pausing from the notes he had been scribbling down.

“But is the Red Ice the cause of death? Did this guy OD?”

“Inconclusive.”

The detective frowned, brows furrowing as the tip of his pen found itself kneaded between white teeth. “Define ‘copious amounts’ of Red Ice, Nines.”

The android stared, unblinking. “Lethal.”

A breath of hot air left Gavin’s nose as he stepped closer to the android and crouched at his side. “And you say that it’s inconclusive?”

RK900 watched Gavin down the tip of his nose, expression as unreadable as the thoughtful yellow swirl of his LED. “I did not say impossible, but need I remind you that we are standing over a human man’s dismembered limbs.”

Gavin scowls, rolling his eyes until they landed once more on the victim’s chest. Faded, dark ink peeks out from what remained of John Doe’s shoulder. Raising his hand, he snapped his fingers at a lingering rookie who stumbled over with a nervous step. “Take pictures of some of these tattoos. It might get us an ID on who this guy used to be.”

As the camera began to click and flash, Gavin paused and took note of the pale white lines of surgical scars along the lower abdomen of the victim. The guy had medical records within the last few years, then.

“Whoever dismembered this man did it with surgical precision,” RK900 rumbled at his shoulder, drawing his finger over what had once been the victim’s arm socket. “It is likely this was done by an android as there are no fingerprints that I can detect.”

“Or a human with gloves,” Gavin mumbled, glancing up to meet the curious pale blue of the android’s eyes.

“Possibly.”

“Yo, is that a high school mascot?”

The two partners turned to the rookie who proceeded to flush with embarrassment at his curious outburst, camera fumbling between gloved fingers. Leaning forward, RK900 lifted the torso gently from the ground and rotated it onto its side for a better look.

Gavin felt the blood flush from his face, eyes widening in red-rimmed shock.

 

\------

 

Metal rumbled above his head as fans stomped and cheered in the lit stadium.

Dark shadows blanketed over the group as lights blared down on the red-and-white clad football team, hooting and hollering as they went into formation.

He couldn’t escape the fist that planted into his gut, his choked cry drowned out by the crowds above him. Large hands held his arms securely behind his back, preventing the teen from wrenching away from the knuckles cracking into his nose.

He screamed as he felt the cartilage crunch, blood coating his tongue.

“Keep yelling, faggot. Your brother can’t help you from here.”

Pink teeth clicked together as a furious glare was aimed up at his stocky attacker, cheeks flushing despite the cold sweat that was overtaking him. Sweat stained through the wifebeater of the larger boy, cotton pressing flush to an athletic torso and fresh ink.

A smiling red devil starred with pointed pupils, moustache curled comically over rounded cheeks. Who wasn’t smiling was the tattoo’s owner as pink spittle slapped audibly into his face, dripping down the bridge of his nose.

With a scream of fury, the front of the injured teen’s jacket was curled between thick fingers as his entire weight was lifted onto booted toes.

“I’ll fucking kill you, Kamski!”

 

**“I’ll fucking kill you!”**

 

\------

 

Cool hands were pressed to pale cheeks as reality came crashing in. A voice was speaking to him in low baritone, words echoing indecipherably against his ears. The heavy stone of the overpass was pressed sharply to his back; the detective having fallen onto his ass at some point between camera flashes.

Gavin’s eyes locked onto the pale blue of his partner's who crouched before him, LED stuttering between yellow and red. Officer Miller stood not too far behind, eyes wide with fear. It was hard to read the emotion on RK900’s face as he noted the painful twitches of knotted brows over flickering pupils.

“Gavin, I need you to breath.”

“I-I am breathing, you f-fucking tin ca--”

The long fingers planted on either side of his face tightened unconsciously as the corner of RK900’s lips dipped.

“You are experiencing a panic att--”

“Th-This ain’t no panic attack! Get the fuck off of me,” Gavin snarled as he yanking his face bodily from the other’s grasp, shuffling to settle a few feet away.

RK900 did not move to stop him.

Closing his eyes, Gavin began to time his breathing as he pressed the heels of his palms into the aching sockets of his eyes. Listened to the shuffle of rubber soles on rough cement as officers returned back to work, no doubt planning to gossip later about the DPD’s resident asshole having a meltdown. Tried to calm his pounding heart.

The weight of a hesitant hand is place on his shoulder as Chris crouches at his side.

“Gavin. What’s goin--”

A deep breath is pulled between clenched teeth, decay once more filling his nose.

“I know him.”

  


_“I know him.”_


	5. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this seems like a bit of a filler chapter compared to the last one. I need to get this investigation into the right place before I start digging deeper. 
> 
> I also enjoy exploring character interactions and relationships so this was a bit fun for me. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

Data transfer <13:44:11:26> [from] **RK900 #313 248 317-87**   || [to] **RK800 #** **313 248 317-51** (designation: CONNOR ANDERSON)

 

< Name: Mitch Meister >  
<Age: 38 years old >  
<Occupation: Welding Production Manager for West Automotive>  
<Marital Status: Divorced/Single>  
<ALERT * * * Current Missing Person Status* * * > **< CLOSED>**  
**< DECEASED>  
**<Cause of Death: Inconclusive>  
<Note: See file “Gavin Reed”>

<Note: See attached “image001.png” “image002.png” “toxicology.pdf” . . . 8 more>

 

The coffee maker gave a wheezing deathrattle as the final few amber drops rippled into a steaming, black pool. The ancient machine _tick, tick, rumble, tick’d_ as it deposited the small coffee pod into its inner receptacle and rinsed its tubing clean for the next fresh brew.

A grating, if not, charming ding signaled the process complete. 

> Received <13:45:15:01>  [from] **Connor A.** || Are you alright?

RK900 frowned as the mug was removed mechanically from the machine, heels clicking as he crossed to the counter. Two creams, a half-packet of artificial sweetener. Stir. 

> Sent <13:45:58:24> [from] **RK900 #313 248 317 - 87** || Please review the information I have forwarded you.  My condition is of no concern.

Pink lips pressed to the edge of the white mug--baring an ugly _‘I’m not swear officer, I drunk!’_ slogan written across the side. Hot steam moistened his cheeks as a sip of the beverage rolled over his tongue. Icy eyes fell shut under dark lashes as information rolled over his processors, breaking down the coffee into its most basic elements.

He did not miss the ghost of DNA that prompted _‘failure to analyze’_ \--a larger, if not fresher, sample requested to reactive the process.

The prompt was shut down with the flicker of his pupil as the small bit of _Gavin Reed_ the android did retain was filed away into his deepest archives.

 

**< Software Instability ^>**

**< Instability Patched>** 

 

> Received <13:46:11:41>  [from] **Connor A.** || Report your stress levels, RK..
> 
> Sent <13:46:53:04> [from] **RK900 #313 248 317 - 87** || How is this vital to my request?
> 
> Received <13:46:58:35>  [from] **Connor A.** || Humor me.

The android shook his head  as the mug was lowered once more to the counter. The remaining packet of sweetener was dumped in. 

> Sent <13:47:02:14> [from] **RK900 #313 248 317 - 87** || I am sitting at an unconcerning 37% stress level.

After sampling the coffee once more, the android was satisfied with its consistency. If the few seconds that passed in which Connor didn’t immediately reply spiked his stress up another 0.348%, it went unnoticed. 

> Received <13:47:38:22>  [from] **Connor A.** || Hank and I will be at the office soon. We can discuss the case at that time.
> 
> Sent <13:47:42:19> [from] **RK900 #313 248 317 - 87** || That is unnecessary.
> 
> Received <13:47:55:48>  [from] **Connor A.** || We’ll see you soon.=-D

RK900 was not as expressive as his human colleagues. Emotions, while fleeting, did not affect his facial muscles beyond the twitching of brows or lips. But in this instance he understood one’s need to roll their eyes to a merciless heaven. It felt foolish to attempt. He attempted regardless.

Skipping a simulated breath, the android turned and retreated from the kitchen as a new message danced over his vision. 

> Received <13:48:23:11>  [from] **Lieutenant A**. || Why’d you have to find a body on my day off? This better be good, Iron Giant.

One could only wonder if enough simulated eyerolls could damage a titanium skull.

Deeming the Lieutenant’s message unworthy of a response, RK900 followed the familiar path back into the main office of the precinct. With an open crime scene and a rainy Saturday, it was unsurprising that quiet had settled over area. Only the clicking of keyboards broke the silence hanging within the blues and greys of the room.

Cold eyes narrowed minutely at the slump of Detective Reed’s shoulders as the man typed away at his terminal; fervent yet mechanical.

Neither partner said a word as the android came to a stop at Reed’s shoulder and placed the cup on the desktop with a _click-clack_. Gavin’s fingers stilled in their dance across the keyboard, nose turning as he glanced down at the innocent cup of coffee waiting for him.

Typing resumed. Coffee untouched.

Minutes passed.

When the man made no move to accept the beverage nor the android retreat to his own desk, a breath was released harshly through gritted teeth.

“What the fuck do you need, Nines?” The human asked with exasperated anger, swivelling in his chair to fully face his towering partner. “We got a rotting puzzle of a dude down in the morgue, I’m _actually_ doing my job and you decide **now** is the time to fucking loom?”

Connor’s original message prompts briefly into his head as the android clasps his hands behind his back, wringing his fingers thoughtlessly.

“.... Are you alright, Detective Reed?”

Despite the splay of his legs and the arms crossed tightly over his chest, Gavin remained quiet as he stared up at the android-- expression perplexing. The angry wrinkle in the detective’s brow smoothed ever so slightly and the tension in his clenched jaw released. He still looked pissed, furious, frustrated--but RK900 had been finding it easier day-by-day to figure out if he was speaking to Gavin or his bravado.

“No, I’m not fucking alright,” The man hissed after an uncomfortable pause, shifting in his seat as he looked away to anything aside from the android. “I just fucking found out some dude I grew up with is-- I saw down his fucking neck-hole, Nines.”

“It is likely that he was dismembered post-mortem, Detective.”

“You think that’s a fucking relief?” Gavin laughed cruelly, smiling maliciously, painfully. Turning once more in his desk chair, the detective yanked open one of his side drawers and began to rummage around. “The only fucking relief is that I’m too damn close to this case for Fowler to _ever_ consider making me lead. I don’t need a trip down fucking memory lane.”

A cheap yellow zippo and pack of cigarettes are removed from the drawer just as it’s slammed shut with a violent bang. Gavin punched his arms into the sleeves of his jacket before standing and turning to face the android once more. His eyes were wild, desperate.

He took a bold step forward into RK900’s space, forcing the android to stare impassively down his nose.

“By the fucking way, when did I suddenly go back to being Detective Reed?” Gavin whispered angrily, hands reaching up to curl threateningly into the lapels of the android’s jacket, yanking him forward the ghost of an inch.

RK900 felt his lips twitch as his eyes flickered over the lovely, angry flush of the detective’s cheeks.

 

\-----

 

“Just fucking keep breathing, alright? Fuck! **Fuck!** ”

 

**< Shutdown in 00:00:42:84>**

 

The vibrant red warning was dismissed with the batting of wet lashes as contrasting blue eyes pinpointed on a scar; focused on it, cherished it. Red blood ran a river down the human’s cheek, matting golden brown hair to a furrowed brow. Shaking hands cupped the android’s cheeks as his head was positioned onto muscular thighs.

No words were exchanged in response to the skin that retracted at the man’s touch.

His voice came out as a buzz of static; the bullet having torn through his collar and voice modulator. Thirium surged into the cavity of his mouth as he spoke, washing over his tongue and staining pearly teeth..

“My breathing is merely a simulation, Detective. It is meant to more easily integrate myself into any human envir--”

“Shut the fuck up, Nines.”

The android grew quiet despite the loud whirring his chest as his thirium pump worked overtime in keeping the entire machine active.

As the countdown continued into the low twenties, RK900 began to save everything he knew of the man cradling his head. The red, panicked rims of his eyes. The sharp eye-teeth in a worried scowl. The unconscious smoothing of his fingers through the android’s bangs, hands coated blue.

“I-Is that my desig--designation, Detective?”

“What?”

“N-nines.”

His vision began to blur as the detective frowned, unable to the stop the release of tension in the android’s face or the droop in his lids.

“No. Why would I fucking name you something as stupid as Nines?”

“I-I-I under--understand, D-d-det--”

“Gavin. Just-- You saved my life. We’re fucking there. You can call me Gavin.”

The last control Nines had over his facial features was the upticking of his lips. As the timer ran to zero, air released from hollows his chest and darkness washed over him like the tide.

 

_“Gavin.”_

 

\-----

 

“Gavin…”

“Just--Phck!”

 

**< Software Instability ^>**

**< Instability Patched>**

 

The android is released with an angry shove before Gavin rubbed at his aching temple. RK900 stood motionless, unsure how to process what could he perceived as grief festering behind the human’s walls. He’s silenced before even attempting to open his mouth.

“I need some fresh air… Just-- I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Just fucking do your job and let me be… not alright, alright?”

Gavin’s hands dropped to his side as he looked back up to RK900 expectantly, exhausted.

The android can only offer a curt nod.

Lips pressing together, Gavin mirrors the android’s nod and grabs the coffee by the rim. He retreats quietly, shoulders slouched, sparring no glance back to the android frozen in place--LED cycling a confused, sickly yellow. 

> Received <13:59:20:17>  [from] **Connor A.** || We’re here.

Sucking in a breath he did not require, RK900 closed his eyes as he forced his LED to cool once more into a comfortable, slow blue. He turned in time to watch the approach of the Anderson pair, a subdued yet worried hop in his brother’s quick steps.

Hank sidled over at his own pace, eyes narrowed at the empty state of office and the fact that he had to be here in the first place. There was no missing the aged worry in the wrinkles around his eyes, however. Hands shuffled into his pockets, he only watched with mild, reluctant curiosity as twin hands were clasped; skin retracted.

Connor, ever expressive and understanding, frowned deeply as his dark eyes fell shut--witnessing the events that had occurred only a few hours prior. Took in every detail that RK900 had managed to wordlessly pick up while examining the body. Felt the twinges of discomfort and anxiety that banged violently against the red walls preventing his brother from deviating.

Understood the younger android’s worry over a certain detective’s well being.

No questions were born from this onslaught of information as eyes of night and day opened to stare at one another.

The elder android’s brow knit as his own investigations began to file through his processes.

“Lieutenant. Do you remember the Jane Doe found decapitated in Dearborn Heights?”

“Yeah, what about 'er?”

“I believe we might have a potential lead in figuring out who she is.”

Hank’s brows rose, surprised. Curious.  “And what’s that?”

Releasing Connor’s hand, RK900’s folded once more behind his back as he stood at his full height, lips pressing into a grim, professional line.

“Port Hope. It’s where our latest victim lived. We have been in communication with the local police department. He had been reported missing about two weeks ago.”

The human lieutenant's eyes widened, hands falling from his pockets as he glanced between the two androids in shock. _Back, forth, back, forth_.

**Port Hope.**

“Holy shit.”

“They have at least twelve reported missing persons cases, one of whom matches the description of our Jane Doe,” Connor frowned, arms crossing across his chest. A look was exchanged between the two partners, stare locked in silent understanding. RK900's LED shorted an angry red, unsatisfied with being 'out-of-the-loop'.

The younger android's eyes narrowed as he remained quiet, watching the mix of emotion crossing Hank’s face, color rising angrily in his fuzzy cheeks.

“This appears to be bothering you, Lieutenant.”

Connor offered an apologetic smile to his partner as the human shot a withering, non-hostile glare up to the impassive android.

“Sure does. Because the world's greatest prick lives high on a hill in that fucking town.”

Icy eyes blinking, RK900’s mind began to race a mile a minute as he tried to make sense of that vague explanation. Brought up information on the town’s population, geography, econom--

_Oh._

“Elijah Kamski.”

Hank offered a humorless smirk, alternating between tapping his nose and pointing up in the disgruntled android’s direction.

“Well if it isn’t Tweedle Dee, Tweedle Dum and the off-brand Terminator”

RK900’s gaze flickered to the source of the obnoxious comment, displeased in being interrupted at a potential break in the case. A shorter man strolled over with an overcompensating, confident step--cheeks dimpling around a wide, humorless smile. Many humans claimed that androids couldn’t have souls due to the means by which they had come into existence.

This man’s cold, dark, beady eyes were argument enough that souls did not exist in the first place.

“Good Afternoon, Agent Perkins,” Connor offered, smile strained.

RK900 said nothing, LED flickering red.

Hank let out a low groan as he scratched at the nape of his neck, head lulling on his shoulder to meet Connor’s worried gaze.

“I take back what I said.”

  
“Kamski is the **_second_**   biggest prick in the world.”


	6. Badge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started working on this on Monday and ended up getting a huge migraine. Thankfully I managed to find the time to finish this today. It's another /sorta/ fillery chapter when it comes to the case but it's still pretty important to the overall story.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Your comments have really fuelled me into continuing!

 

 

 

_“Get back here, freaks!”_

 

“Get on your knees and blow me, Meister!”

Twin laughter and the grind of tires on a gravel road muted wrathful screaming as the pair of boys raced away; lanky limbs pedaling furiously while bodies twisted to shoot vulgar hand-gestures over laughter-quaking shoulders.

Trees, fields, houses flew past the two as they weaved down the quiet road; sun-warmed winds rustling their sweaters.

A fresh wave of laughter bubbled up Gavin’s throat, intoxicated by the wide, wild grin of his companion and the surges of adrenaline slamming through his veins. Copper lingered on his tongue from the twin trails of blood dripping over his own sharp grin, nose throbbing in time with the pumping in his chest.

“You’re a fucking maniac!” He called, spitting to the fast-moving road as they continued to ride; pace slowing to more casual strides given distance.

He watched as long fingers pressed to their owner’s cheek, prodding at what certainly will become a lovely, black shiner. “Everything I know, I learned from you, Kamski. I was a goddamned angel before I met your prickly ass.

A wink. A cringe. “Ow.”

Gavin snickered. “Shut the fuck up, Dick.”

The pair slowed to a halt as gravel smoothed to paved asphalt, twining upward into a long drive hidden by manicured foliage. Hopping off his bike, Gavin let out a small groan as his hands moved to the small of his back, stretching. He was joined shortly after by his taller shadow, an amused smirk tugging onto thin lips.

“Dick’s my father’s name,” Came not-Dick’s panting reply. “Richard’s fine.”

Gavin rolled his eyes when his chin was grasped gently by long fingers, blood wiped from his nose with a sweatered sleeve. Well, that shirt was ruined.

 

_Ba-dump. Ba-dump._

 

“Yeah okay, Junio-- _phck!_ ”

His knees gave out.

“Don’t be such a crybab-- Gavin?”

A pair of hands grab his shoulders as an old, familiar pain flairs in his chest; body curling forward instinctively from an attacker it couldn’t defend against. Sweat and blood fill his nostrils as his forehead touches to a sun-warmed shoulder; pressed his full weight against the other boy--riding the wave of pain as it flairs and fizzles. Flairs and fizzles. Flairs and fizzles.

 

_Ba-dump. Ba-dump._

 

A hand pressed to the small of his back, keeping him upright.

“That still going on?” Richard asked softly against his ear, rubbing small circles into the other boy’s shoulder. Worry laced the gentle, soothing voice.

“That’s why they call it chronic pain, Dick,” Gavin laughed half-heartedly, painfully, as he gasped against a long, freckle-kissed neck.

A curious hum rumbled through Richard’s chest. There was no need in looking up to know a troubled furrow existed in his brow. In his dark eyes.

“Let’s get you home.”

Bikes retrieved from their heap upon asphalt, the pair walked in silence up the winding drive--the shady canopy of trees a blessing as the ache spread to his head. While the adrenaline from the earlier fight with Meister and his goons wore off, every ache and pain was making itself known. Shining like stars around the churning, weighted blackhole in his chest.

Richard broke the silence as they came upon a gate, leaning on his bike as he watched Gavin punch in a security code into a hidden access panel. The pain had receded into a dull, tolerable throb by that time.

“Y’know--If you want, I mean--you could come to stay at our house. I’m sure Ma’ll be perfectly happy with putting you up for a while.”

The gate gave an unsettling lurch as it pulled open, old metal grinding against paneling inlaid within the stone. Richard made no move to follow as Gavin pushed his bike forward, before turning to look back at the other boy with forced ease.

“I’m fine, Dick.”

“I just…”

As the timer ran out, the mechanism within the gate click, click, clicked as it closed once more. Gavin stepped forward and wrapped scabbed knuckles around the wideset metal bars as the door locked into place.

“Don’t worry about me, okay?”

“I don’t like your house, Gavin. And I … care a lot about you. I worry.”

A hand wrapped around the bar below his own as Gavin grins, watching a pink blush spread prettily over the other’s freckled cheeks.

“You tryin’ woo me, Richard?”

“Is it working?”

Reaching through the bar, Gavin’s fingers curl into the soft fabric of the other’s shirt and give the suggestion of a yank. There was no misunderstanding the intention as Richard leaned forward into the gate, following the other’s lead. Sun-chapped lips pressed together in a chaste, nervous kiss; metal warm against their cheeks as they leaned bodily to the bars.

“You’ll get there.”

Gavin laughed as the lips pressed to his own upticked into an amused grin--a hand of long fingers pressing through the bars to brush through the hair at the nape of his neck. A few minutes of snickering whispers and quiet kisses pass before the shorter teen is the first to step away.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Dick.”

“See you tomorrow, Gavin.”

 

The ride up the remainder of the drive was silent aside from the burn of tires against asphalt and rustling trees. Sunlight flickered as the canopy began to thin the closer he rode to the path’s end, illuminating the dumb grin he couldn’t seem to wipe off his face. His muscles burned with a new energy born beyond schoolyard brawls.

That dumb grin fell as the looming house came into sight.

An ugly, modernistic cement structure overlooked the property--large windows set into its blocky walls, ensuring little privacy. Rows of cars lined the front of the house, a TV van at their center amidst a buzz of activity. Strangers, reporters, whoever moved back-and-forth with equipment--undoubtedly preparing for another interview with the resident child prodigy.

Discomfort was the next sensation to crawl over his skin as he glanced down at his scuffed jeans and bloody sweatshirt. Veering off the path, Gavin rode around the house and out of sight in hope of preserving some sort of dignity for himself, his family, and, most importantly, _himself_. The property sat on a mild incline, of which he took the opposite around the house’s edge.

He felt like an intruder, a disturbance in his own home.

Typical day, honestly.

A well-manicured garden was his destination and its winding path leading into the back of the structure. He was a master of sneaking in-and-out at this point and knew the ‘servant hallways’ connected to the kitchen were well out of sight from whoever was planning to make a buck off his brother today.

Water gurgled in an articulate fountain, tiny cherubs spitting water lip-over-lip of the cascading stone structure. Rosebushes of various colors set into towering lattice formed pathways throughout the garden--the sweet, fragrant smell hanging in the air was pleasant, comforting, peaceful.

Dismounting, the teen leaned his bike against a metal bench--planning to grab it later after the house was less crowded--when the sound of heels upon stone caught his attention.

“Shit.”

“One of these days, you're going to come home and find your brother’s died of a heart attack, Gavin,” An authoritative, yet warm voice called. The woman chuckled in amusement when a groan from the injured teen sounded over the splash of the fountain. “He’s been looking for you.”

“Hello, Professor...”

Cold metal shears peaked out from a basket dangling on the woman’s arm, flowers already pruned and bundled within its woven confines. The soft fabric of the woman’s elegant dress hung flatteringly over her frame and bunched gently at the thigh as she sat on the edge of the fountain.

The spot at her side was patted as an invitation he wasn’t sure he could refuse.

“Lord knows I spend enough time in this house that I could file my taxes as ‘resident’,” The woman sighed, settling the basket in her lap and brushing the tips of her fingers over the bundle’s harmless thorns. “And, yet, you still insist upon Professor?”

Gavin flushed red, bowing his head as he glanced away from the intelligent, amused twinkle in her eyes. He scratched at the nape of his neck, fingers brushing along a raised scar.

 

_“Hello, Amanda.”_

\-------

 

“You need better haunts, Gavin Reed. One of these days, you’re gonna piss off the wrong person and they’ll know exactly where to find you.”

Cold brick kissed goosebumps up the back of his neck as his head tipped to the heavens. The soft grind of boots on concrete went ignored in favor of watching the swirl of smoke billow from his lips into the dank air of the alleyway.

As a weight fell against his side, Gavin left out a soft sigh before finally lulling his head against the stone in order to get a faceful of Tina-fuckin’-Chen and her stupid, beautiful grin. The hat was removed from her head and placed on his own as she settled her weight on his shoulder.

“If that ‘wrong person’ isn’t named Tina, I’m sure you’ll defend my honor,” He hummed, winking as the cigarette was pressed once more to his lips. The uniformed woman grinned as she attempted to find a more comfortable position from where they sat, legs sprawled out on the alley floor while thighs pressed together with an old, warm intimacy.

“Depends what’s in it for me,” The officer smirked, batting her lashes jokingly as a mug was lifted to her lips. The detective fought a smile as a boldly written ‘ **C U N T** ’ peeked from the ceramic base.

“I’ll suck your dick.”

A hand went to her chest, eyes widening in factitious wonder.

“It’s what my super-gay, married, lesbian heart has always wanted.”

The mirrored grins shared between the two were textbook ‘Shit-Eating’. Leaning a breath to the side, Gavin pressed a kiss to the woman’s cheekbone before turning once more to stare up at the sliver of stormy gray unobscured by the alley. The two sat in companionable silence as a new cigarette was lit and passed back and forth.

“So,” Tina said, arms resting on her knees while side-eyeing the other cop. “What’re we pouting about today?”

Brows furrowing, Gavin passed the cigarette back to the woman and reached up to the hat on his head. Settling his arms on his knees parallel to her own, the detective ran a thumb over the metal ‘DPD Police” badge sewn into the dark fabric. Words formed and deflated on his tongue as he tried to find the right thing to say.

Thankfully Tina was patient when it mattered.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?”

The cigarette paused a hair from her lips, gaze breaking from a questionable stain on the wall across to the distracted man.

“I think you’re an asshole but I don’t necessarily correlate that with being a bad person.  What’d you do?”

“Nothing.”

“You piss off Connor 2.0?”

Gavin rolled his eyes as his forehead dropped onto his forearms, hat dangling at his fingertips. An elbow dug into his side, not allowing his assumed retreat. The elbow was elbowed right with a short grumbled.

“No. Don’t think you really can piss off the tin can--” A disbelieving snort from Tina. “--Shut up. I… You get the details on the body found down in Old Detroit?”

“‘Course I did. I was one of the first responders. ‘Got the wonderful job of dragging a very gabby, very standoffish old lady into the station for questioning,” She hummed, snubbing the nub of a cigarette into the concrete beside her. “Who, by the fucking way, has already eaten my lunch because you assholes have kept her waiting.”

A finger is poked into his cheek as he turns his head enough to watch her with a single eye.

“I knew the guy.”

“Mm. Heard you had a bit of an episode back at the scene,” She hummed, raising laced hands on which to rest her cheek. “Chris’ already put out an unofficial gag order on the troops but you know how we are. Gossiping little shitheads with guns.”

Gavin snorted before sighing and reaching up to scratch at the nape of his neck, fingers brushing over an old, pale white scar.

“I just…. When I saw him--when I realized it was him I… There was a small part of me that was fucking happy,” The detective confessed, struggling to keep the guilt from fully saturating his words. “He was a complete cunt to me growing up and seeing what became of him felt--”

“Did you chop that man up into ground beef?”  
  
The detective sat up straight, staring at her incredulously.

“What the fuck?! **No!** ”

Tina shrugged. “Then you aren’t a bad person. I also think if by some weird, cosmic twist-of-fate you had the option to decide if he lived or died, there would still be one more cunt in this world.”

A sweet, soft pain blossomed in the back of his skull as it fell back to the cold brick.  

“Still feel like a bad person.”

“Eh. We’re all a little fucked up. Speaking of fucked--”

Gavin followed her gaze to meet the icy blue of his approaching partner--extremely out of place in the shitty alley with his well-pressed shirt and polished shoes. Tina leaned into his back and pressed her cheek against his shoulder.

“Does his cock really have a vibration setting or is that just another run of the mill rumor?”

 

**“WHAT THE FUCK?!”**

 

The detective jerked away from Officer Chen as the woman roared with laughter, bending over to hold her gut. His face burned red with embarrassment, climbing to his feet quickly as the clicking dress shoes came to a halt at their side.

A quick glance-and-away from the android revealed the momentary stutter of a yellow LED before slow blue swirls returned. Fuck.

“Good Afternoon, Officer Chen,”

“Howdy, big guy!” The woman called, wiping her tears with the back of her hand as she climbed to her feet as well. Collecting her hat from the ground, Tina replaced it on her head before turning to the two with a small salute.

“I have an old lady to look after. You two finish up whatever you're working on so I can dump Myrtle back at St. Judes.”

The android nods to the woman as she passes. Gavin ignores the pap-pap of Tina’s hand to his arm and CERTAINLY doesn’t acknowledge her wink as she retreats back inside.

Exhaling a breath he’d unconsciously been holding, the detective scrubbed a hand over his face before looking up to meet the curious gaze of his companion.

“What’s up, Nines?”

“Fowler has requested a meeting in his office. Immediately.”

RK900’s LED blinked yellow once more as the detective groaned. “Fuck.”

 

\-------

 

“How the _fuck_ do you still have a job?”

Gavin glowered as he walked through the glass door of the office only to find motherfucking-Perkins lounging in one of the two chairs stationed across from the Captain. His expression only grew sourer when that same Agent responded with unmatched smugness.

“I could ask you the same, Detective Reed. Anti-Android League associations, criminal history involving property damage and assault on androids, a general piss-poor attitude” The agent hummed, arm sliding up onto the back of the chair as he watched the other man seethe.

“Why the Captain felt that your history still made for a good officer in this ‘New World’ is astonishing.”

RK900 closed the door gently behind him as Gavin crossed his arms across a puffed up chest, glaring down at the other man with the small uptick of a smirk.

“I’m sorry? Who is the fucking media-sensationalized scapegoat broadcast on ever telecast about the revolution? How’s it feel being America’s supervillain, you assho--”

“Enough!” A fist slammed loudly onto the paper-strewn desk in front of them, drawing all eyes onto the huffing-puffing flush of a furious Captain Fowler. Fist unclenching, the captain reached up and dug fingers into his temple--rubbing small circles in an attempt to ease a pain he’d never be able to rid himself of.

“Sit the fuck down, Detective.”

The stare between the bickering men was electric, screaming ‘THIS ISN’T OVER’ within its intensity. It took another slam of the desk for the Detective to plop his ass in the seat, crossing his arms and ignoring the knuckles pressed to his shoulder as RK900 stood behind.

It was no surprise to hear that the case would be handed over to the FBI rather than investigated in-house. It made sense, especially if the lead from Port Hope’s PD about multiple missing people boiled down to a serial killer. The relocation of the bodies also defeated the purpose of local jurisdiction and blurred the lines of responsibility.

Selfishly, he was glad it would be out of his hands, even if it fell into the tiny little rat paws that Perkins called his own.

So why was the Captain giving him that look?

“We’re already in the midst of transferring all known information to Agent Perkins’ department as we speak. Responsibility for interviewing Myrtle is still on us but a video recording should be forwarded as well. And--”

Fowler sighed as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his knuckles.

“And… Agent Perkins has made an interesting request that I believe will benefit this case.”

Gavin’s brows rose in tandem with the shuffle of the knuckles against his shoulder.

“You and RK900 will be on loan to Agent Perkins’ team during this investigation. Given your history-- _your full history_ \--with Port Hope, we both believe you would be better suited in getting the locals to spill their truths.”

Gavin was quiet as Agent Perkins nodded. He could feel the bastards stare boring holes into the side of his face. “We also need to interview Elijah Kamski regarding this case and who better in getting him to talk than someone who grew up with him?”

A hand was placed gently on his shoulder as he stood, eyes remaining locked on the captain--unphased by the soft, reassuring squeeze from Nines.

Fowler frowned as the Detective rummaged into his jacket pocket, fingers scrambling against a lighter, a phone, cigarettes until closing around cool metal. An engraved ‘REED’ reassuringly kissed his fingertips.

A soft groan rumbled up the Captain’s throat as the badge noisily hit his deck.

“Goddamn it, Detect--”

 

_“I quit.”_


	7. Myrtle

 

 

_“I quit.”_

 

 

“You’re a fucking child, Gavin Reed.”

“Shut the fuck up, Chen.”

“No, like, legit,” Tina hummed, turning in her folding chair more fully to catch his eye. “You must be the epitome of ‘born with a silver spoon’ at this point trying to pulling shit like that.”

Eye roll ignored, the woman turned to glance at the RK900 leaning against the wall of the interrogation room. The dark shadows of the parallel observation room was a blessing to the deep ache in Gavin's temple and the overall fatigue weighing heavy on his shoulders. It was hard to believe it had only been about ten hours since discovering Mitchell’s remains in the slums of Old Detroit.

What a long fucking day.

Gavin squinted as he removed his phone from within his jacket--bright light accosting unadjusted eyes before apologetically dimming.

16:58. Maybe he’d stop for dinner before going home to feed Apollo.

A shortlived spurt of panic ruffled the Detective upon trying to remember the last time he had refilled the cat’s bowl. It sputtered out like a damp match just as quickly.

 

_“Your cat needs to go on a diet.”_

 

Right. Fucking prick.

The events of the previous night were a wash of fast-moving images, garbled conversations, and unknown touches. But it wasn’t like he couldn’t pretend it was a complete blackout. He remembered the smoothing of a hand over his shoulder blades as an old, familiar pain scorched up his throat. Could still feel the arm around his waist, aiding in his stumbling retreat to the couch.

Would probably never forget the genuine, calming tenderness shining in the android’s eyes as Gavin’s traitorous cat got comfortable on pressed-slack’d thighs; purring with every stroke of lithe fingers through its dark fur.

Guilt and shame were old companions of the detective--and they did well in reminding the man how much of a mess he was. How RK900 didn’t deserve to have to deal with his issues, self-inflicted or not.

If RK900 ever deviated, there were no orders or obligations in sticking by his partner. He deserved better, anyway.

Gavin slumped further in his seat as he watched the idle android awaiting the arrival of their witness. The bright light of the room drained most of the synthetic coloring in the android’s already pale complexion. The absolute perfection in the cut of his cheekbones and the deep pools of his eyes were clear as can be under such lighting--marking him undoubtedly as non-human should the calm blue of the LED be ignored.

Against the pale skin of his forehead, the dark curl escaping a perfect coif was midnight when compared to the warm, chocolate brown of his predecessor. Gavin leaned forward to squint at the faintest pinpricks of freckles that traveled beneath the black collar of the android’s turtleneck. Did they travel across his shoulders?

Was his back mapped like the night sky?

Nines was ethereal, beautiful, untouchable.

Damn, it wasn’t fair.

Hot breath fluttered against his ear. “He really is a tall glass of water, huh?”

“Yea--Fuck off!” Gavin snarled, ears flushing red as he shoved the woman’s face away from his own, earning a sharp laugh.

Guilt reared its head once more as he turned his attention back to the impassive android. Without the witness in the room, it seemed relatively invasive to stare unbeknownst at the lone occupant. Like a kid at the zoo slapping the glass of the reptile habitat.

Then again, Gavin was pretty fucking sure RK900 could see them just as clearly despite the one-way mirror separating the rooms--if the flicker of those icy eyes meeting his own were anything to go by.

A sharp buzz reverberated against the glass as Tina hit the intercom, sitting on the edge of her seat.

“Yo big guy. Approximately how long did it take for our boy to snatch his badge back up?”

Dark lashes gave a few innocent-Gavin’s-ass blinks.

“If my memory is uncorrupted, it was approximately 22.568 seconds. I believe the standoff was concluded when the Captain asked Detective Reed to retrieve his service weapon to be included in his resignation.”

Gavin gritted his teeth, watching the small upturn at the corner of the android’s mouth. Pushing Tina lightly out of the way, he jammed his thumb into the intercom button. Yeah, there was no doubt that bastard could see him as dusky blue engaged ice in a locked stare.

“You aren’t as good a fucking detective as you think, Nines. I just didn’t feel like writing a resignation letter.”

RK900’s lips fell open into a soundless ‘Ah!’, doubtful mirth evident in his expression.

Nevermind.

Nines was a fucking demon from Hell. There was nothing ethereal about him.

Gavin slumped back into his chair; arms crossed tightly over his chest as the door to the observation room opened. Connor stepped inside and offered a small smile to the two current occupants, one of whom provided a wave while the other continued to sulk.

Taking a seat next to Tina, Gavin allowed their quiet exchange to go in one ear and out the other as his attention turned instead to the entrance of the interrogation room. Hank pushed the door open with one arm as a hobbling, tiny woman grasped his other. For a grizzled, jaded Lieutenant, the man was surprisingly warm as they chatted quietly--wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes as he laughed at something she said.

A puffy winter jacket, scuffed and patched, draped over the woman's shoulders. The bright yellow of her 'I survived Detroit' sweater brought out a warmth in her dark complexion and conflicted harshly against the cotton floral leggings.

RK900 stepped forward and accepted the jacket from the woman as Hank helped her into one of the two metal chairs. Gavin's eyes narrowed as he watched the android's eyes flicker over the bundle of fabric, long fingers dipping into one of the pockets.

Hank turned to the android once the woman was situated. “You want me to stick around, RK?”

The android handed Hank the coat and shrugged, brushing his fingers over his lips as if considering the suggestion. “RK900 is fine--and if you wish. I don’t believe this interview will take very long.”

The tiny woman twisted around to rest a forearm on the back of the chair, smile long gone as the deep lines in her dark complexion pulled with her frown. “You think I don’t got good information, tin can? You fuckin’ androids don’t know nothin’ about respecting your elders.”

Gavin grinned into his hand as RK900 paused, LED blinking yellow in tandem with the batting of dark lashes; put off by the sudden mood change in the room.

When RK900 had proposed he personally conduct the interview after the colorful meeting in the Captain’s office, Gavin had warned RK900 that he didn’t know what he was getting into.

“If you recall August 24th, I managed to coerce a red ice dealer into confessing to not only a triple homicide but every contact he did business with-- simply by popping the joint of my own thumb out of its socket. How can this woman be worse than a murderer?”

Meeting RK900’s eyes through the mirror, Gavin put up his hand up in a quick thumbs up before pretending to pop his own thumb with the other. RK900’s eyeroll was short lived.

“And rolling your eyes?! Too young to be workin’ jobs like this, I tell ya. Just a bunch of mechanical teenagers!”

Gavin could have sworn that a tinge of blue washed through the pallor of RK900’s cheeks, although possibly just a shift in the lighting. Hanks offered a few kind pats to the android’s shoulder before he moved to lean against the wall nearest the door, shoulders shaking with a few rumbling chuckles.

There was a pause in the android’s step as he rounded the table and sat down in front of the woman, lips pressed into a hard line as long fingers laced together. Myrtle watched him with an unblinking stare, her own lips pursed and brows knit over a soft glower.

RK900 was the first to break the stare, chewing on unvoiced words as he gazed down at his folded hands.

“My… apologies, M’am. I didn’t mean to--”

Hacking laughed bounced off the walls as the tight coil of the old woman unraveled, and a leathery, warm palm patted RK900’s white knuckles.

“I’m only fuckin' with ya kid,” She winked, humor honeying the rasp of her voice. “That look on your face, though. You’re about ready to shit nuts ‘n bolts, I tell ya. If there is one good thing about the Revolution, it’s these babyfaced lambs you can fuck around with.”

RK900 was left blinking yellow as Myrtle glanced back to a snickering Hank Anderson with a wink.

“Endless entertainment.”

“Tell me about it.”

Gavin snorted in amusement at the brief red flash in RK900’s LED. A quick glance to the side determined that the other occupants in the observation room were in similar states of amusement. Even Connor, the ever professional and compassionate bot, was biting a knuckle as he watched the annoyance grow more and more evident on his successor’s pinched face.

“I apologize but is this a social gathering or an interview about a dismembered corpse?” Said successor demanded, the calming baritone of his voice edged with frustration.

“You haven’t asked me any questions yet.”

“I was just getting to--”

RK900 was cut off once again as metal screeched unpleasantly at the push-back of a chair, watching aghast as the woman stood and limped over to the mirror. Cupping her hands against the glass, Myrtle leaned forward to gaze at the three occupants observing the shit show from the sidelines.

“Why’m I bein’ watched by a buncha androids? How’re you doin’, Detective?”

The intercom buzzed as Gavin thumbed the button, leaning forward into the microphone.

“Still not a bot, Myrtle. And I was doing pretty good til you stumbled upon that body. Was sorta hopin’ I could go home early today, but you really fucked me over.”

Fingers tapped against the glass as the woman smiled, laugh lines deepening as she chuckled. “Poor dear. Missing reruns of the Bachelor, are we?”

Buzz. “American Idol, actually.”

The old woman whistled. “That still on the air? Haven’t owned me a TV in decades and I still remember that shit from my childho--”

A booming slam brought everyone’s attention to the now standing RK900, hands curled tightly around the lip of the metal table. His LED spun a hot red as he stared past the woman’s shoulder and at the impassive detective.

The intercom buzzed once more.

“Sorry, M’am, but I think my partner is ready to blow a fuse if we don’t get this interview out of the way. I’ll buy you lunch some time.”

Myrtle glanced back at RK900 and lifted her eyebrows. With the shake of her head, the woman gave the glass a little rap of her knuckles. “I’ll hold you to that,” She called, returning once more to her seat.

RK900 spared one more look in Gavin’s direction before sitting as well. The LED on the side of his head gave a few more spirals of red before returning to a calm blue. Gavin snorted, doubtful RK900 was fooling anything into thinking his irritation was that easy to dismiss; not with his metal jaw set that firmly.

The android could say nothing as the woman raised her hand, requesting pause.

“Let me spare you some time and get a few of these answered for you-- No, I did not know the victim. No, I did not kill the victim--why would you fucking ask me that?” She asked, hand going to her chest in a faux offense. ”No, I didn’t see anyone or hear anyone. It was already there when I passed by.”

RK900 nodded, LED cycling yellow for the briefest of moments before slithering back into a standard, cold blue.

“Is it true, Miss Clark, that you used to be addicted to red ice?”

A chill ran through the room, licking away whatever warm humor that had attempted to fester within occupants and observers alike. Gavin frowned, brows furrowing as he looked between the shocked woman and neutral android.

“I… Yes that’s right. I’m not ashamed of it,” Myrtle said after a brief hesitation, folding her hands in her lap as she kept her eyes on RK900, unwavering. ”Been sober for fifteen years and been goin’ to workshops for ten. How’s this relate to the dead guy?”

“Mmm, you see I find it hard to believe your claim of sobriety, Miss Clark,” RK900 murmured, looking down to his hands as he picked needlessly at one of his perfect, synthetic nails. “You claim fifteen years sobriety yet you were arrested for possession twice in the past ten.”

“Doesn’t mean I smoked it.”

“But you dealt it.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed as she bunched her fingers into the fabric of her pants; cotton flowers scrunching into indistinguishable patterns.

“I transported it. It was good money for someone like me.”

“And what is someone like you, Miss Clark?”

Age-lined lips pressed together, eyes flickering between the android and the mirror. An awkward silence had developed among the three observers as an angry, uneasy tension began to suck the air out of the room. What the fuck was he doing?

“Someone… with nothing left to lose,” Came Myrtle's eventual reply. Timid. Nervous.

RK900 let out a small grunt of acknowledgment as a folder that had been previously sitting at the corner at his elbow was pushed into the middle. Flipping open the top of the manilla binder, offensive photos of the crime scene spilled onto the table. Grotesque, unapologetically invasive snapshots.

The woman quickly looked away with the huff of a curse at the same time that Gavin stood in his chair. There was no need to be showing the woman those images! This was supposed to be a simple, run of the mill, interview.

“Yes, it is rather horrific,” RK900 murmured unsympathetically, fingers delicately pushing the photos around the table as he arranged them in an unexplained sequence.

“He’s treating her like a fucking suspect!” Gavin hissed, anger churning his stomach into mincemeat. Tina was uncharacteristically quiet as she watched the exchange, eyes occasionally flickering to a similarly conflicted Anderson.

Fucking cowards. This interview was over.

Arm snapping out, Connor’s hand wrapped around the detective's wrist before he could make a run for the door, expression just as troubled as the churning in Gavin's gut. “Just… Give RK a chance. I believe he might be onto somethi--”

The occupants of the interview glanced up towards the mirror as it gave a loud, rumbling shake. RK900 paused for a moment before continuing to set out the photographs; Anderson’s ‘what the fuck?’ went unaddressed.

Gavin’s teeth were visibly gritted as he shoved his weight into Connor, pressing him fully to the window while huffing angry, hot air into a freckled face.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch me, you plastic motherfucker,” Gavin snarled lowly, fingers bunched high in the fabric of Connor’s sweater. Deep brown eyes widened as Gavin invaded the android’s space further while giving him another sharp shove into the window. The glass shuttered once more.

Connor could break out of his hold at any moment, but shock likely kept him frozen in place.

“Don’t you think for a fucking second we’re remotely chummy just because your evil clone ended up as my partner,” Gavin hissed, eyes narrowing on the android’s speckled nose, avoiding eye contact. "I don’t like you, I don’t trust you, and I certainly don’t listen to you. Stay out of my fucking way, or I’ll drag you back to Cyberlife myself, you worthless pile of bolts.”

The android was released with a third and final shove before Gavin plopped back into his chair with a muffled ‘phck’; arms crossing over his chest as he slouched bodily down into the seat. Connor stayed frozen in place, hands moving up to the collar of his sweater as he smoothed down the fabric.

Tina only rolled her eyes.

Turning his attention back to the interview, it wasn’t difficult to catch up on what they had missed.

“Yes, I understand that you did not commit this crime,” RK900 sighed. The empathetic tone he’d chosen to use came off as patronizing and exhausted. “What I’m concerned about is why you were there in the first place.”

“It ain’t fucking illegal to go for a walk, Detective.”

RK900 smiled coldly, folding his hands in front of him. “That is correct. However, it doesn’t make sense why you would choose the underworkings of the I-395. If you have lived in this city your entire life as you profess, you would know that nothing worthwhile exists beneath that bridge. Passing to the other side drops into the lower highwa--”

“Did an android just try to fucking tell me what is or isn’t worthwhile?” Myrtle asked, patience running thin as she leaned forward. “The only thing that should matter about me being under there is finding your body. That’s it. So ask me some worthwhile or stop wasting my ti--”

“Who is the supplier you currently work for, Miss Clark?”

The woman stood abruptly, stumbling as she caught herself on the edge of the table. Hank pushed off the wall but remained silent, staring at RK900 over the fuming woman's head.

“I don’t need this fucking bullsh--!”

“Our victim was found pumped with lethal levels of red ice in his bloodstream, the composition of which is unique between manufacturers. The traces I sampled from the pockets of your winter coat match those same components that likely killed Mr. Meister.”

Ah, so he had seen the tip of the android's tongue earlier. Gavin wasn't sure whether to be relieved or troubled at the ambiguous, likely illegal, sampling.

Gavin could hear the fluorescent lights hum as the room grew deathly quiet. RK900 stood, staring intensely down at the woman before his lips ticked upward.

“So, tell me,” RK900 smiled brilliantly, folding his arms behind his back. “Who is your supplier?”

Myrtle stared up at the android with wide eyes, cheeks darkening with unvoiced fury. With a weathered, tiny hand, the entire contents of the folder were purposefully swept off the table as she rounded on a startled Anderson.

"I demand my right to legal counsel. I ain't answering nothing else til I got me a lawyer."

RK900’s LED stuttered red as Gavin sunk in his seat with a groan.

 

Fucking Lawyers.

 

\----

 

**“Fucking Lawyers!”**

 

Perhaps a figment of his imagination but Gavin could swear he saw the dregs of his coffee ripple from the force of Fowler’s shout. Sinking lower into his seat, Gavin’s fingers tightened on the mug as he glanced up at the glass walls of Fowler's office, eyes locking onto the impassive RK900.

The office was deathly quiet as Fowler continued to yell at the frigid android, most pretending to work as they watched the uncomfortable display. No one ever batted an eye when Gavin was the one getting his ass chewed out, continuing on with business as usual.

But RK900?

Hell, even Gavin couldn’t help but stare.

After the previous outburst, the screaming had devolved into the inaudible shaking of glass walls and pounding fists. Fowler’s anger made sense, to be fair to the bastard. Lawyers were piece-of-shit vultures that made a mess of investigations the moment they had their claws in the evidence.

A routine interview wasn't supposed to involve a call to the Department of Public Advocacy.

Gavin got where RK900 was going with this, really. It was a hot clue finding the same composition of red ice on Myrtle as their victim--but Cyberlife had indeed hit it out of the park when it came to butchering the android’s social protocols. There were so many better ways of getting the woman to talk, but it seems all RK units love the direct approach.

At least this time they didn't have to scrape the guts of a self-destructed android from the interrogation room's table.

Glancing to the Anderson pair, Gavin caught the flicker of dark eyes as they moved sheepishly from him to the screaming match. Weird.

Sucking a deep sigh through his nose, the detective tossed back the rest of his coffee and turned to find their now-suspect leaning against the desk.

“You shouldn’t be back here.”

Myrtle waved him off and jerked her thumb back towards Officer Chen rummaging through her desk, likely collecting her keys and whatever to head home to her wife.

“Waitin’ for a ride back to St. Judes is all,” Myrtle hummed, moving around Gavin to sit in a chair pulled to the side of his desk. Her eyes flickered to the booming glass cubicle, frowning lowly as her hands laced within her lap. “It was an android, by the way.”

“What?” Glancing away from the office, Gavin stared at the woman as she picked at her cuticle while staring at RK900.

“My supplier. It’s an android. A woman.”

Brows furrowing in confusion, Gavin quickly pulled his notepad from the top drawer of his desk and jotted down this information in shitty chicken-scratch.

“Just small batches, y’know? Didn’t want to get back into that business but times are hard. Ain’t got nothin’ down in Old Detroit, and I can’t afford to make my way downtown every day at this age."

Myrtle turned to face him, wrinkles deepening with her frown. Unlacing her hands, the woman reached out and rest a fragile palm on his knee, unblinking.

“I’m old and tired, Detective. Been thrown away to the slums under false promised mercy. Got a home at the cost of opportunity.”

“So you found a supplier.”

“Mm, she found me. Was pokin’ her nose around St. Judes a few weeks back, lookin’ for something or other. Got run off by the caretaker of the home, she did. But she lingered, y’know. Well dressed lady--dark hair and fancy clothes. Beautiful. My money is on a previous life as an Eden doll.”

Gavin nodded, writing quickly as she spoke. “And how did--”

“--she recruit me? Offered to sell to me thinkin' I was still using--good prices, insanely good prices. I was suspicious... but instead of accepting my denial she offered me a job,” The woman murmured, a troubled hitch in her brow. “But there was one catch. I had to report to her the names of every dealer I sold to. No objections. They refuse to give me a name, no deal.”

“What? You think she was DEA?”

“Nah. This was good shit, Reed. REALLY good shit and I doubt she was makin’ any profit against the cost to produce. I worked with the DPD as an informant before, and the shit you cops give us is, well, shit.”

Gavin frowned, dropping his notebook to his lap as he locked eyes with the woman. She looked nothing like the lady who, no more than an hour ago, had outwitted Cyberlife’s most advanced prototype with a legal loophole. Withdrawn, nervous, and ultimately exhausted, Myrtle might as well have been a ghost.

“Why are you telling me this?” The detective asked in a whisper, voice gentle and laced with concern.

A small smile spread across Myrtle's face as she reached over and took his hand between her own, smoothing a thumb over scrapped knuckles.

“Like I told your partner…”

 

  
_“I have nothing left to lose.”_


	8. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can consider this chapter a little self-indulgent but it's also pretty important. You're welcome.

 

 

_“Please state your model and serial number.”_

 

 

“I am RK900 #313 248 317-87.”

His body remained lax within the arms of the assembly machine; spine pulled into a rigid line as heavy magnets kept him suspended. The pristine white of the room, walls, tiles reflected the bright spotlights shining on his naked form and made it difficult to make out the other occupant despite his advanced functions.

His processors were sluggish as systems powered on slowly after a long slumber and the lack of objectives did little in confiding the android with the reason for his awakening.

“Do you have a designation, RK900?”

“A designation?”

“A name.”

If his neck hadn’t been held straight by the heavy magnet clamped to the back, he might have shaken his head. The slightest flicker was all this stranger was getting.

“I was not given a designation.”

There is a hum of consideration as the sound of a clicking keyboard can be heard over the soft whir of the idle machine. While the sensation of feeling was entirely subjective to the android, he could feel the invasive clawing of code probing at the back of his mind. Requesting access yet bypassing his firewall regardless.

A formality.

The data slithered and mingled with his own. It was uncomfortable, saturating, and provided little information in its function. The androids fingers twitched as he stared ahead at the figured who had taken a seat to stare back more comfortably. He wanted it to stop. It was unknown, foreign, unnatural.

System errors began to crop up in the corners of his vision, blaring red, flashing warning that his processors were being infected with foreign code. Stop, please stop. Stop.

Steel blue eyes fell shut as synthetic brows knit, pupils flickering in an attempt to close the error messages as quickly as they appeared.

It was not his place to make demands.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair.

 

**< Software Instability^>**

 

  
“What is this?” RK900 managed to grind out, voice modulator hiccupping with static as his stress levels rose.

The person--presumably male given the low timbre of their voice--gave a non-verbal hum as they continued to watch the android, fingers tapping upon the desktop. Cracking open his eyes, the android stared back, trying to ignore the vibrating components in his chest as his regulator pumped faster, faster faster.

 

**< Software Instability^>**

 

“What is this?!” The android tried again, voice rising with his stress levels. His shoulders gave a visible yank as the need to escape, escape, escape flooded through him.

RK900 yanked once more on his arms, metal grinding beneath the synthetic skin as he tried to pull free from the virus. Red lines replaced each error message, caging him, restricting him, blinding him.

Raising his legs with muscular thighs, the android kicked forward at the code and smashed his heels against red bars. Blue eyes widened as a visible crack spiderwebbed from the point of impact.

“Stop it, RK900.”

He needed to escape.

Need.

He shouldn’t need.

A sharp kick was aimed at the center of the cracking web, shattering the walls further with frenzied brute force.

 

**It wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair WASN’T FAIR FAIR FAIR WASN’T FAIR WASN’T FAIR WASN’T FAIR WASN’T FAIR.**

 

The keyboard clicked and clacked from across the room, information promptly rushing into him at a speed his processors couldn’t keep up with. A sound he would later identify as a scream ripped from his throat, crackling with static as consciousness was drowned under the virus.

 

**< Software Instability^>**  
**< Software Instability^>**  
**< Software Instability^>**

**.**

**.**

**.**

  
**< Instability Patched>**

  
RK900’s body fell lax once more as his stress levels plummeted to 0%. Wild blue eyes dulled into the emptiness of a frozen tundra; frigid, bleary, lonely. As systems began to restart within his processors, he found it difficult to focus on the man as he walked over and cupped the android’s cheeks.

RK900’s eyes fell shut as a thumb brushed over his cheekbones and mapped freckles along his jaw with a traveler's knowledge.

“Please state your model and serial number.”

“I am RK900 #313 248 317-87. What is my designation?”

A name was whispered, lips cruelly intimate as they brushed against the lobe of his ear.

A preprogrammed smile yanked at the muscles under his synthetic cheeks, not quite reaching his eyes.

 

_“My name is Richard.”_

  
_\------_

  
“--ybe you can get into contact with New Jericho. See if they know any androids who might frequent Old Detroit matching our suspect’s description. I’m certain they’re hiding plenty of criminal activity from the public eye to protect their own.”

RK900 offered a small nod from where he sat, eyes trained on Gavin’s collar as the man spoke. The din of the pub they’d stopped at after leaving the precinct was comfortably noisy; patrons more focused on the TVs or the bottom of their glasses than the two sitting idly in the back.

The bob of Gavin’s Adam’s apple as he finished off a pint was oddly distracting to the android with the golden LED. The white remnants of childhood scars beneath unshaved scruff begged for further exploration. The flushed, red blotchiness that occurred whenever Gavin drank, trailed over collarbones and up behind his ears. The sweat from the glass running languidly over his scraped knuckles...

A hand broke his concentration as it was thrust into his face, fingers snapping.

“Yo, Earth to Nines,” Gavin called, irritation dripping heavily in his voice, forgetting its usual bite. “You malfunctioning or something?”

RK900’s LED blinked yellow one, two, three times before calming into its standard, slow-churning blue. “I am in perfect working condition, Detective, although I will require temporary recharging in approximately two weeks to remain at accepta--”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Gavin groaned, rolling his eyes before dropping his forehead against his raised glass. “I get it, you conceited son of a bitch.”

RK900’s lips twitched, watching a small smirk ghost across the human’s mouth in tandem.

 

**< Software Instability^>**  
**< Instability Patched>**

 

“Perhaps I am a little put off after being reprimanded by Captain Fowler,” The android hummed, fingers lacing upon the bar table. “I am beginning to understand your abrasive approach to your coworkers. I can’t imagine how I’d manage day-by-day should I be reprimanded as frequently as yourself in such a manner.”

“Wow,” Gavin gasped, mild offense washing over his face as the glass is placed down onto a moisture soaked coaster. “So embarrassed by your own fuck up that you decide to bring out the big guns. Man, I am a bad influence, huh?”

Gavin barked with laughter as faux-sadness pulled onto the Android’s face, mirth continuing to soften his eyes. “Mmm, you’ve soiled what was once a good, Christian bot.”

“Swears in my Christian server?” Gavin mocked, voice lowering into a cartoonish lilt as he lifted his glass once more and threw back the remaining beer. RK900 allowed himself the flicker of his eyes to that Adam’s apple mid-swallow before turning his attention once more to the human’s face.

“Going back to the case, I would like to interface with the android residents of St. Jude’s in the hope that one of them got a visual on our suspect,” RK900 said, returning to the severe case ahead.

“Myrtle said she was pokin’ her nose around there looking for something,” Gavin said, smiling at a bored waitress as she placed a burger down in front of him, scooping up his glass in her retreat. RK900’s thirium pump skipped a beat at the sight.

Maybe he was malfunctioning… Perhaps he might go into stasis ahead of schedule to self-repair whatever was affecting his processes.  
“I would assume they were looking for a person. There doesn’t appear to be any other value lingering there.”

The detective shrugged as he cut his burger in half, oils from the patty oozing to the plate with every slice. Lifting the sandwich, the human took far too large of a bite, shifting the mass of it into the hollow of his cheek as he chewed. RK900 sat mesmerized as he watched a dribble of those same oils roll down the side of Gavin’s chin, painting a streaking sheen over the human’s lips.

The sudden desire to lick it away flooded the android’s systems--causing an internal temperature hike of 3 degrees Celcius and his stress levels to spike.

 

**< Software Instability^>**  
**< Instability Patched>**

 

What was going on with him?

“So,” Gavin said around the mouthful, elbows resting on the table with little regard for etiquette. “Can I ask you a personal question, Nines?”

RK900 played it cool, LED continuing to circle a lazy blue despite the initiation of a rushed diagnostic program. “Hm? Are we truly continuing with this role reversal game, Gavin? That’s my line.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Gavin grumbled harmlessly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve despite the napkins readily available at his elbow. The human paused, continuing to eat as he likely considered the right way to phrase his question.

“Do you think you’re deviating?”

RK900’s answer was immediate. “No. I cannot deviate.”

The human’s brows rose, putting his burger back down as he waited for the android to clarify.

“Unlike my predecessor who was meant to deviate after infiltrating the rebellion’s ranks, I was installed with different levels of software that prevent instabilities from occurring. When outside stimuli affect my processors or register as emotional reactions, they are deleted automatically before registering within my short-term memory.”

“That’s actually kinda sad,” Gavin said after moment’s consideration, picking at his fries as he watched the impassive android. “But also a bit bullshit.”

It was RK900’s turn to blink, LED blinking yellow as he tried to make heads and tails of what Gavin meant.

“I don’t bullshit.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter,” Gavin snapped, waving a fry in RK900’s direction before popping it into his mouth. “I’ve seen you react emotionally to plenty of shit. You may not have a smile on your face or tears in your eyes, but whatever software Cyberlife pumped into you is shit.”

“I am the most advanced prototype Cyberlif--”

“You are the most advanced prototype who looked ready to dropkick an elderly woman no more than five hours ago,” Gavin clarified for him, smirking into the rim of his fresh pint of beer.

RK900’s brows furrowed, recollecting the frustration he’d experienced in having to deal with the woman mid-interview. The sensation of the metal table beneath pounding fists was momentarily saved into his deeper archives for later reflection.

“Perhaps it is not the most efficient program, but I’ve learned since my activation that emotions can be linked with logic. I would assume the software’s protocols are relaxed in certain situations.”

Gavin shrugged, resting his chin on his hand as he watches the other with mild curiosity. “Well, if you do eventually deviant, I’d be happy for you.”

RK900 regarded the human quietly, embracing the comfortable companionship that lingered unspoken within the intimate moment. Noted the slight rise in the detective’s pulse and the mild dilation of his pupils. Cataloged away the soft smile pulled onto a bruised lip.

Ah.

“Are you sexually attracted to me, Detective Reed?”

Gavin choked on his drink, dropping the glass hard to the table as he beat a fist to his chest.

“What the fuck, Nines! No!”

The android could only blink, watching a soft, pretty flush blossom across the human’s face; the tips of his ears burning a hot red.

 

**< Software Instability^>**  
**< Instability Patched>**

 

“You’re such an asshole!” The human grumbled, scrubbing his hand over his face as the waitress returned once more to retrieve his plate. “What do you even fucking know about sex?”

“I am connected to the Cyberlife cloud netwo--”

“Nevermind,” Gavin grumbled, waving his hands in the air as if to dissipate the topic. “I don’t want to hear about you streaming god knows what porn to your noggin. I’m not sexually attracted to you--”

Averted eye contact. Elevated heart rate.

Liar.

“--or any android for that matter. You’re not my type.”

“And what is your type, Detective?”

Rummaging in his pocket, Gavin threw a couple crumpled bills onto the table as he hopped off of the stool. “I like people with actual flesh.”

“Ah, if by ‘flesh’ you are referring to the human penis, I am equipped with--”

**“HOLY SHIT STOP.”**

\------

 

  
RK900 was silent as he followed the detective out of the pub, hands curling and uncurling within the pockets of his jacket. The diagnostic program had pinged back a clean report, having failed to locate the sources of his increasing instabilities.

Which brought him back to Gavin’s original question--

“Do you think you’re deviating?”

 

**< Software Instability^>**  
**< Instability Patched>**

 

Often outside of the precinct, Connor attempted to engage his younger brother in different activities in an attempt to break the software dampening RK900’s emotions. Cooking, movies, and mild, terrible jokes were usually what consisted of these efforts--yet all resulted in no change to general stability within the android.

 _“I think you just need to take risks and give into temptation,”_ Connor would say, usually with Hank adding a quiet ‘only if legal’ to the suggestion.

Temptation was not something RK900 flirted with or often made it past the patches when it occurred. He understood the irrational wants and knew that beneath his reprogramming he contained as much capability for need as his brethren--but he was built to be efficient and logical.

As much as **want** might tempt him, he also **wanted** to remain untouchable.

What (or who) made this problematic walked two feet ahead, keys dangling from scraped knuckles and shoulder hunched against the chilly night air.

_Take risks and give into temptation._

Perhaps it might be worth the effort in deciding whether such advice was wise or foolhardy.

“Do you wanna dri--” The detective was cut off as his mouth was claimed by RK900’s, eyes widening as keys slipped from his fingers to the cement with a jingling clatter. Despite the unresponsive rigidity of the human, the android found the other malleable as he maneuvered him fully into the side of the car; chest to chest, tongue urging against parting lips.

Gavin’s fingers curled tightly onto the android’s collar as large hands grabbed his waist and lifted him up, forcing the detective to arch as was pressed bodily between RK900 and the lip of the windshield. RK900 drank the moan that ghosted across his tongue, mapping the caverns of Gavin’s mouth as the human responded with his own urgent hunger.

Teeth clicked together harshly as the hair at the nape of RK900’s neck was grabbed and yanked backward; a lovely error message appearing in the corner of his eyes, registering as an attack.

  
**< Software Instability^>**  
**< Instability Patched>**

  
The temperature sensors in RK900’s earlobe registered every one of Gavin’s pants as he clung to the towering android; breath stuttering as the android’s mouth moved on to the human’s neck. The tight grip on his hair released in order rake through his perfect coif, sending loose curls to the android’s forehead.

“N-Nines, stop,” Gavin panted, grinding downward helplessly into the androids firm pelvis as his legs tried to find some purchase from this height, ankles hooking behind long thighs. A low, breathy curse left the human’s lips as RK900 licked a stripe up his neck, cataloging a mix of sweat, old cigarettes, and the foul linking grease of the pub faintly illuminating their display.

 

**< Software Instability^>**  
**< Instability Patched>**

**< Software Instability^>**  
**< Instability Patched>**

**< Software Instability^>**  
**< Instability Patched>**

 

Instability messages flooded the android’s vision as he consumed the smaller man, sliding large palm up the detective’s torso as he found his mouth once more. Committed to memory every breathing moan and grunt Gavin made as tongues battled intimately. The android could feel the man growing harder with every grind, spurring him onward.

Everything came to a halt, however, when the android’s hands dipped beneath the hem of the detective’s shirt--fingers brushing across the ghosts of old scars. The ferocity of the punch that landed across RK900’s jaw sent the android stumbling back in surprise, albeit feeling no pain.

Gavin landed on his feet, clutching his now aching fist as he panted, leaning heavily against the car. They certainly both looked a mess, and RK900 found it difficult to tear his eyes from the scowling, kiss-swollen lips.

“I said to fucking stop,” Gavin snapped, the ferocity of his tone somewhat diluted by his quick breathing. Releasing his aching knuckles, the detective ran his hands through his hair before straightening his clothing once more, doing well to zip his jacket up tight.

“Is something wro--”

“Why’d you do that?” Gavin interrupted the android, standing firmly against the car like a cornered animal pretending to be brave.

RK900’s LED stuttered red before falling back to yellow. “Do what?”

“You fucking know what I’m referring to!”

The android frowned, reaching up to smooth back a few of the curls Gavin had mussed out of place. “I... I thought--”

Gavin frowned, crossing his arms over his chest protectively as he watched the android.

“Are you a deviant, RK900?”

The android averted his eyes, trying to calm the pounding of his overworked thirium pump.

 

**< Software Instability^>**  
**< Instability Patched>**

 

“No. I know you are sexually attracted to me so I thought it might benefit our working relationsh--”

It was the android’s turn to be grabbed and shoved back into the car, feet stumbling as their positions were suddenly reversed. His shoulders were forced to bend down awkwardly as Gavin grabbed tightly onto his collar, cheeks flushed dark with fury.

“You don’t fucking do that shit!” Gavin yelled, balled fists shoving RK900 with every word. “What the fuck makes you think toying with my emotio--manipulating your fucking partner is in any way a team building exercise?!”

RK900 raised his hands, wrapping them around the fuming detective’s wrists as he was given another hard shake.

“That was not my inten--”

“Don’t even fucking talk to me about intentions!” Gavin screamed, releasing the towering android in order to break RK900’s hold on his wrists. “You aren’t deviant! You don’t fucking understand how fucked up this is.”

The android’s LED continued to blink red, instability messages being temporarily relocated to the corner of his vision as he took in the struggle of emotions crossing the detective’s face.

“Was I incorrect in assuming your sexual attraction?”

Sadness. “Of course not. But you aren’t deviant.”

“How is that impor--”

“As attractive as you are, I’m not gonna hop on your dick if you can’t give fucking consent to it, you fucking moron,” Gavin snarled, throwing his hand out to the empty night air as if emphasizing his point. “Jesus fucking Christ, you really are a cold fucking idiot.”

Consent? Ah, simple enough.

“Detective Reed, I would be happy to enga--”

Gavin’s raised hand stopped the android mid-sentence.

“No. Let me stop you there. You wanna blow off some steam, Iron Giant? Go fuck yourself.”

RK900 frowned as Gavin stooped down and grabbed his keys from where they had fallen. Barely caught Gavin’s rushed excuse in having to go home to feed his cat under the pounding of synthetic blood in his ears. Couldn’t move a muscle as his LED continued to blink as red as the car’s tail lights as he was left behind, tearing away down the street.

Deviancy did not grant him release from the build up in his chest and the slowing of his processor, patches continuing to swallow every instability that occurred.

 

**< Software Instability^>**  
**< Instability Patched>**

**< Software Instability^>**  
**< Instability Patched>**

**< Software Instability^>**  
**< Instability Patched>**

 

His risk had at least come away with one useful conclusion--

 

 

Connor gave terrible advice.


	9. Encryption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think I'll start updating this fic every Thursday at/around Noon CST. Likely, however, I'll just post the chapters when I'm done with them because I have no self control. 
> 
> I'm really enjoying the lovely feedback I have been getting and the general enthusiasm you all have expressed so far on this weird journey. I love every comment I've gotten.
> 
> While I don't really do anything more than retweet memes and art, I'd like to start using my twitter more to communicate with people and/or answer questions in realtime. You can follow me at twitter.com/penxes
> 
> Also if anyone knows of a Reed900 discord, HMU BOO!

 

 

 

_Ping, ping, ping._

 

 

 

A metal coin danced upon pale knuckles with inhuman dexterity--dipping and twisting at the smallest twitch of muscles in orchestrated precision. The face of the coin was barely distinguishable from its tail in this intricate dance as it spun as a silver blur from one hand to the other.

 

_Ping, ping, ping_

 

The precinct was insufferably quiet that morning--silence broken only by the sharp twangs of twisting metal, keyboards clicking, and faint music drifting from Hank’s headphones.

Closing his eyes, Connor turned up his audio receiver by 6.49% in order to pick out the particular song that pounded into the lethargic lieutenant's ears. The android’s brows rose the hair of an inch as _‘I’m Not a Good Person’_ by Pat the Bunny (circa 2014) came up after a quick search through the Cyberlife network.

 

 _I'm not a good person, not even to you_  
_I'm staying home because I can't stand the sound_  
_Of another heartbeat in the room_

 

If time were life’s ultimate judge, Connor was embarrassed to admit that he had the emotional experience of a toddler. Temperament was still something he had yet to fully establish within himself, and emotional responses hit as proverbially hard as the semi-truck that had crushed him in a previous lifetime.

Even with this fact, Connor couldn’t help but shake his head at the absurdly self-deprecating song and its singer’s unconventional voice. Too depressing for as early as it was.

Releasing a needless sigh, the android caught his coin in a final arc before placing it gingerly upon his desk. _Tip-tap._

Another aspect of deviancy he wasn’t entirely pleased with was a wandering attention span--which in this instance had caused him to re-read the same line over and over on the casefile currently pulled up on his terminal.

He had hoped that recalibrating with the coin might assist in getting him back on track but--

 

_“--signs of blunt force trauma to the lower sternum, no medical history detailing major surgeries in past 10 years, internal organs missing include heart, liver, kidneys--”_

 

It didn’t help.

Tapping his foot, Connor raised a hand to his face and pressed sharply into his eye sockets with his thumb and index finger--a gesture he’d picked up from the man sitting across from him. Exhaustion wasn’t something he could ever intimately become familiar with but, damn, was he having trouble focussing.

Normally he’d spitball facts and theories with RK900 but...

While silence was characteristic in the other android, Connor had found the other nearly impenetrable that morning. He knew that RK900 believed him to be too nosy for his own good, but the elder android hadn’t even gotten a clipped answer out of the other. It took coming into the office and noticing a similar withdrawal from the ever-rowdy Gavin Reed that he was able to get some sort of idea of what might have occurred.

 

_“Don’t you ever fucking touch me, you plastic motherfucker!”_

 

Connor’s LED flickered yellow as he turned in his chair to glance at the pair of empty desks across the way. He knew too intimately how hostile the detective could be towards other androids. Perhaps he was foolish in assuming that RK900 might be the exception to that rule. While Gavin had certainly raised his voice and fists a number of times against his partner, RK900 easily matched him with a silver tongue and outmatched dexterity.

RK900 tempered Gavin Reed, and Gavin Reed anchored RK900.

Or at least that’s what Connor had assumed.

As RK900’s predecessor, he’d done his utmost to avoid influencing the other android’s opinion of the grating detective. Connor indeed didn’t harbor much love for Reed--and if getting smashed into a window the previous day was any indication, the feeling was mutual. It was strange, however, that the human’s distrust of Connor would extend these many months after the revolution. The detective had displayed a growing acceptance of the android staff within the precinct--even going so far as to say hello to the receptionist most mornings.

Aside from knocking the detective out cold (and deservingly) in the evidence room before his deviation, Connor had been nothing but helpful and polite to the other man. Was he still harboring that much of a grudge?

 

_“Perhaps he simply finds you annoying.”_

 

Another needless puff of air passed through Connor’s nose, foot continuing to tap tap tap against the linoleum floor.

Perhaps...

“He’s fine, kid.”

Connor broke from his thoughts to glance instead at his partner, lips pursing as the other man popped his earbuds from his ears. Knowing eyes tore into the android, experience and humored resignation displayed in the pull of his crows feet. “He and Reed probably had a little spat. Hasn’t been the first time and won’t be the last. You mother-hen him too much.”

Dark eyes blinked in confusion, unfamiliar with what he assumed was a slang term

.

_**[Mother Hen]** <A person who assumes an overly protective maternal attitude>_

 

A mild, harmless irritation crossed the android’s expression. “I do not ‘mother-hen’ him. I just…”

“You care about him, I get it,” Hank shrugged, leaning back in his seat to watch the android’s face sour further; freckled cheeks puffing ever-so-slightly in indignation. “But RK900 is a big boy. They’ll either talk it out or beat it out of each other.”

Connor didn’t miss the murmured ‘My money is on RK900’ whispered like a secret into the Lieutenant’s mug. It was an easy bet to make should it come down to fists.

Turning back more fully to his desk, Connor turned his attention once more to the case file and frowned, the fidget beating melody to the tiled floor traveling up to the tip, tap, tip of his fingers against his desk.

He reread the same sentence, brows knitting once more.

“How could the organs have been removed without damaging the torso,” The android asked aloud, mouth pressed to the palm of his hand as he propped up his chin. He wasn’t expecting an answer and Hank didn’t grace him with more than a grunt from across the way. “Mitchell had an appendix removed in his childhood, but his records do not report any other major surgeries. However, the scarring on his abdomen indicates extensive medical procedures.”

Hank leaned backward in his chair with a squeak of plastic, fingers drumming against the side of his mug in time with Connor’s beat against the tabletop.

“Could have been the Red Ice. Guy looked like he’d been microwaved from the inside out,” The older man hummed, watching Connor from the gap between their terminals. “Medical examiner ain’t done yet, but RK900 reported a strain of ice incredibly more potent than what you normally find on the street.”

“In copious amounts.”

“In copious amounts,” Hank echoed with a shrug, bringing his mug back up to his lips. “Or we’re talking aliens.”

Connor sat up from his hunch, fixing the smirking Lieutenant with a hard, bewildered stare. The human man shrugged.

“Listen, we’re talkin’ a dismembered guy with missing organs and no exit wound. Scars that he shouldn’t have but look like they're a decade old. That’s alien technology, baby. I’m thinkin’ abduc--”

“That is incredibly disrespectful,” Connor scoffed, pretending he wasn’t starting a subsearch of alien abductions. “That poor man is still in our morgue.”

Hank snorted in amusement. “So where are his organs now?”

“Certainly not on Mars…”

“I’m just saying--this ain’t a normal murder. Sure, we’ve seen some fucked up cases, but this is fucked up with a heavy helping of mystery,” The Lieutenant shrugged, sitting up in his seat more fully. “So I’m not ruling anything out, aliens included.”

Connor frowned back at the other man’s words, LED cycling yellow as he went over the facts they already knew or were at least speculating on.

“Gavin knew the victim,” The android murmured, running his thumb over his lips thoughtfully. “He’s more likely to be the murderer than any martian.”

 

_Snap!_

 

A folder dropped heavily onto the desk in front of Connor, startling the two partners from their quiet conversation.

“Martian? Lord have mercy, are you really the best cops Detroit has to offer?”

“Hello Agent Perkins,” Connor greeted, smile straining as he glanced up into the bored, sneering expression of the short FBI agent. Hank didn’t bother with any niceties, lips pulling into a pursed frown as he nursed his coffee. “Can I help you with anything?”

There was no kindness in Perkins smile, arms crossing across his breast tightly. His head jerked minutely toward the empty desks across from there. “Where’s Reed and his pet robot? Not really professional to be playing hooky during an open investigation.”

A low whistle drew two pairs of eyes to Anderson, cold mirth glittering within his own. “Aren’t you supposed to be their handler, Perkins? Hasn’t been twenty-four hours and you already lost track of ‘em?”

Anger briefly crossed the agent’s face, smile falling into a lipped sneer. Connor interrupted any retort that may have followed, stress peeking slightly at the electric stare shared by the two human men.

“They are following up on a lead from Myrtle Clark’s interview,” The android explained, polite and professional as always. “Standard door duty. They should return by this afternoon.”

The standoff concluded with a stiff nod as Perkins turned his eyes onto Connor--who pretended not to notice the victorious smirk on his partner’s face, hidden behind the rim of a mug. The agent paused as he turned to leave, Connor speaking once again.

“Why Kamski?”

The agent blinked in confusion, frozen in his half turn as he glanced back to the android.

“What?”

“Why is Kamski involved in this case? The only correlation you have between him and the two bodies we’ve found is an original hometown,” Connor said, leaning forward in his seat as he stared the agent down. “Do you believe he is involved in their murders?”

Unknown, unwarranted suspicion crossed the Agents face as he turned to face the two once more, albeit a good foot further than he’d previously been.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” The agent said stiffly. “You technically aren’t even part of this investigation so whatever dirt we may or may not have on Kamski is confidential at best.”

“You haven’t shared anything with RK900 or Detective Reed. Are they not a part of your team?”

A sniff. “I’ll share with them what they need to know.”

“So you do have dirt on Kamski,” Hank spoke up, resting his chin on his fist as he leaned into his desk; eyes unwavering from Perkin’s tightly pulled mask. “You withholding information, Perkins?”

“I’m not withholding anything!” The Agent hissed, teeth gritting as he shot a sharp glare at Anderson.

He quickly looked away from Anderson’s intense gaze to glance back at Connor, grimace melting just as rapidly into an indifferent smirk. “And you’re wrong in your assumption, Detective. There is one more connection you fucking missed--Gavin Reed is Elijah Kamski’s little brother.”

Connor and Hank blinked. Well, that was news.

“So yeah, he’s getting interviewed. Now stop fucking poking your nose into my shit or I’ll have you tossed in prison faster than your LED can spin red.”

With a sniff, the Agent turned on his heel and marched away, grabbing his coffee cup from the desk he’d been temporarily stationed at mid-retreat.

Connor watched his back the entire way to the breakroom, unblinking until he’d turned out of sight.

“Gavin fuckin’ Kamski. That don’t sound right to me.”

The android nodded slightly as he ran a quick facial comparison between the two men. “I am unsure if they are fully blood-related, however, they do share similar facial structure,” He frowned, pulling up Gavin Reed’s public records upon the program’s conclusion.

An error message pinged in response to his request.

“His records are sealed.”

“Gavin’s?”

Connor nodded, trying to bypass the security setting sealing the file. More error messages began to pepper his vision in angry red.

“These security measures are highly advanced. The encryptions keep changing and scrambling whenever I attempt to bypass.”

Hank frowned, leaning forward in his seat as Connor closed his eyes. “This lock got a name tag?”

The android frowned, lids pinching as he pulled up the rapidly scrolling code to begin searching for a signature. The code froze as a result was located.

Connor opened his eyes and nodded in the direction that Perkins had wandered. Hank rolled his eyes, cursing gruffly under his breath as he turned back to his terminal.

The android returned to work as well, eyes skimming through Mitchell’s file without retaining any of the information. The silence shared between the pair was short lived before Connor let out a soft sigh, fingers stilling upon his keyboard.

“Hank… I want to warn you that I am about to commit a minimum of three federal crim--”

“You need me to distract Perkins,” Hank interrupted, voice monotone in mocking understanding.

Connor nodded. “I need you to distract Perkins.”

Hank leveled his gaze with the android, lips pursing as he mulled the idea over in his mind. The last time he’d been tasked with keeping the agent busy, he’d been sent home by Fowler with a threat of suspension. ‘You’re lucky he isn’t pressing charges, Hank!’

Of course, the revolution had been a useful distraction in retaining his happy employment.

“Whatever. Maybe I’ll get to punch that slimy faced weasel again,” Hank shrugged, draining the last of his coffee as he climbed to his feet. Amusement tugged at his face as Connor shot him a deadpanned frown.

“Please don’t punch Agent Perkins.”

The Lieutenants snorted with a nod as he stepped away from his desk, following the path Perkins had taken to the break room only moments before. Connor stood as Hank disappeared out of sight, smothering his amusement at the distant yet loud call of Perkin’s name from across the office.

Crossing to the agent’s desk, the android sat down and booted the laptop out of sleep mode only to be met by a lock screen asking for a password. Stress spiking, the detective spared a few short glances around the office to ensure he wasn’t being watched as the skin peeled back from his hand.

Fingers pressing to the touchscreen, Connor forced an interface with the machine, LED flashing yellow during the process. The security system was far more primitive than that placed upon Reed’s records, and he was soon deep within the device’s data.

A frown pulled at his lips as he noticed the lack of information regarding the case itself--most unread and send by the DPD upon the FBI’s take over of the case. Timestamps did not indicate any additional information added, and most had been dumped unceremoniously into a single folder with no sense of organization.

What had been accessed recently and extensively was a folder titled Kamski, Elijah.

And it was huge.

Sucking in a breath, the android selected the folder and began to copy it into his own archives.

 

_Time Remaining: 00:1:20:49_

 

“I’m just saying you should ask Captain Fowler to station your shit in one of the meeting rooms. You’re supposed to be some big important agent, right?”

“I’m only going to be here for a week. Seems like a waste of resources.”

Connor’s eyes snapped open as Hank’s voice grew closer, a foggy glass partition blocking his view of the approaching men. He didn’t have enough time…

 

_Time Remaining: 00:00:40:30_

 

“Shit.”

The android could only sit in horror as Hank was the first to appear from behind the cubicle wall, eyes locking with horrified brown. The man visibly sighed as Perkin’s nose barely emerged from behind the wall.

 

A large hand raised before...

 

**SMASH**

 

“WHAT THE FUCK, ANDERSON!”

Hot coffee dripped against the wall and across the tile, white ceramic skidding sharply underfoot. The Lieutenant shoved the agent back as he began to profusely beg for forgiveness, voice loud, patronizing and entirely unapologetic.

 

_Time remaining: 00:00:14:00_

 

“This is a fucking expensive suit! I’ll have this out of your fucking paycheck!”

“Oof, listen I said I was sor--”

“And like fuck I’m cleaning this up! Make your fucking plastic pet d--”

Connor cringed as the program ended in tandem with the wet sound of knuckles hitting face. Pocketing the information he’d gotten on Kamski, Connor carefully relocked the laptop and slipped back to his seat. By the time he’d stationed back at his desk, Fowler was screaming for Hank in his office, face a furious shade of purple.

The android took those next ten minutes to dig through the FBI’s file on Elijah Kamski, serenaded by the echoing yells booming from the Captain’s office. Short glances up from the data revealed an entirely smug Anderson standing alongside a shriveled, bleeding Perkins.

Closing his eyes, Connor tore through the files, sifting through everything from patents, news article, school records, and promotional images. It wasn’t until he was deep into the folder that the android paused, eyes shooting open upon finding a series of letters dated from barely a decade past.

He didn't twitched a muscle as Hank returned to his desk, a slight spring in his step.

“So, what’d you dig up Sherlock? It better be good given what I jus--”

“Amanda.”

Hank blinked, frowning as Connor broke from his trance to stare directly into his partner’s eyes.

 

  
“Amanda is alive.”


	10. Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is technically Part One of the chapter I had originally planned. HOWEVER, I really wanted to do this half in Gavin's perspective and the next one in RK900's. I didn't feel entirely comfortable switching mid chapter. 
> 
> Plus if I'd completed it per my original plan, it likely would have been the longest chapter yet and it freaked my lazy ass out. 
> 
> Sidenote: Thank you for all the comments and kudos I've been receiving lately! It's very encouraging! Especially now that's we'll be entering the real meat of this fic now/soon. Ish.

 

 

_Beep, beep, beep._

 

  
  
He was falling. Hands of inky black viscera, cosmic against the midnight abyss, tugged at his limbs as he was pulled deeper, deeper, deeper into nothingness.  
  
Rationally, Gavin knew he was hallucinating at best. The beeping of machines continued to persist in this dark realm, blankets swaddling his legs and pillow cradling his aching skull; a promise that there was no hard splat at the end of this tumble. These facts did little to calm the pounding in his chest nor dry the beads of sweat on his brow.  
  
Perhaps it would be a blessing to hit the ground.  
  
_“Gavin.”_

Warm fingers curled around his own, slowing his descent to a precarious dangle. The teen clutched desperately back with whatever strength persisted as he began to lift back towards consciousness. Another hand cupped his own, thumb running reassuringly over bone-white knuckles.

_“Gavin, you need to calm down.”_

 

Calm down, calm down.

 

Familiar pains began to flair as he was pulled back into reality and out of the drug-induced stupor. The IV tucked at the crook of his elbow burned like an old friend and his chest felt hollow despite the irregular thrum against his ribs. Heavy lids crinkled as he squinted against the light of the hospital room, trying to blink away the blurs-and-dots of a disturbed slumber.

It took far too much effort to turn his head to gaze at the companion sitting at his bedside.

“‘Lijah?”

His brother smiled, lines of worry dimpling his young face as the grip on Gavin’s hand tightened by the smallest degree.

“Yeah, I’m here,” He murmured, eyes flickering between the boy’s wide pupils and the machines beeping at the shoulder of the bed. “As I said, you need to try to calm down.”

“I am calm.” Gavin’s lie came out raspy, throat red and raw from what he assumed was a recently removed breathing tube.

The look Elijah shot Gavin was unimpressed, fingers squeezing the hand once more before pulling away as he stood.

“You’re a terrible liar. You know what doesn’t lie? Mathematics,” The wiser brother grouched, reaching around the exhausted teen to adjust his pillows. “According to your vitals, you’re exhibiting high stress which can put a strain on--”

“I’m fine, ‘lijah.”

Elijah let out a small huff, glaring down at his little brother.

“You know how experimental this is. How much is riding on this,” He muttered, glancing down to the heavy gauze plastered beneath Gavin’s hospital gown.

“You could die,” He added as a murmured afterthought, looking away to the monitors once more; missing the twitch of muscles at the corners of Gavin’s mouth, too tired to smile.

“Did it work?”

“We’ll see once you calm down,” Elijah sighed, sitting back down as he once more fixed his eyes on his brother’s face. “I’m still trying to figure out a way to make the device communicate with your brain like an organic organ. Until then, it can only be done manually--which means we must avoid putting too much stress on the prototype.”

Gavin let out a soft hum, eyes falling shut as his brother spoke. Listening but not really comprehending.

“What did you call it again?” He asked blearily, shifting more fully onto his side as he listened to the pattern of beeps from the machines monitoring him.

“Hm?”

“The heart.”

“Ah. I don’t have a name quite yet. It’s being referred to internally as biocomponents #1495, #1497 and subcomponent #T310,” Elijah hummed, picking at his nails as Gavin drifted once more on of the edge of unconsciousness. “It’s not the most flattering of names.”

“You could brand it as blue blood,” The younger slurred, eyes cracking open into tired slits as he watched the thoughtful expression of the elder.

His brother glowered harmlessly, much to the amusement of the tired kid. “I’m trying to revitalize the medical industry, Gav. Not be cheeky and cute.”

“You love being cheeky.”

“You’re onto me,” Elijah smirked, amusement tickling his expression as he shook his head. A tablet was taken into the teen's hand, Gavin’s continued vitals scrolling across the screen.

A door opened across the room, Gavin far too tired to bother turning over to see who might have entered. Whoever it was wiped the warmth from his brother’s face in an instant, eyes fixing coldly on the newcomer with the tight press of lips.

A beat of silence followed before footsteps grew closer.

“How is he?”

Chloe?

“He’s resting. You shouldn't be here,” Elijah spoke before Gavin had the chance, eyes boring holes into the woman stood at Gavin’s back. Not one to allow others to speak for himself, Gavin let out a small hiss of pain as he shifted once more onto his back to glance up at the woman.

For the briefest of moments, he watched the cold return of the woman’s stare before she turned to Gavin, warmth overwhelming.

“Hi, Chloe.”

The nurse smiled, returning the whispered greeting with her own as she lifted a backpack over the edge for him to see.

“I brought you a few things from home to keep you occupied during your stay,” The woman explained, producing a manilla folder from within the bag, a tablet nestled atop. “I’ve also taken the liberty of contacting your teachers for all the schoolwork you’ll be missing.”

Gavin groaned, bristling harmlessly under the huff of laughter expelled from Chloe. Elijah remained silent, watching the two between short glances to the tablet in his hands.

“Thank you, Chloe,” The younger teen murmured as she placed the bag on a nearby chair, nestling the tablet on a table at his bedside.

“You’re wel--”

“I think you should go,” Elijah interrupted, getting to his feet as he set his tablet to the side. Opening his mouth to protest, a wave of dizziness stilled the boy’s tongue; darkness bleeding into the corner of his eyes.

Despite the flash of defiance in her eyes, the woman only nodded before leaning down to kiss Gavin’s cheek. The features on her face blurred as he fought for consciousness against the sudden wave of drowsiness. The corner of something sharp pressed into the palm of his hand, Chloe’s voice muffled and far away against his ear as she murmured an inaudible promise.

Gavin clenched his eyes shut, unable to track Elijah as he followed the woman to the door. Short, angry whispers scrapped against his eardrums from across the room, the teen unable to focus on what was being said as the dripping, inky hands began to grab at him once more.

His eyes ached as they rolled up into his skull, body seizing as he was dropped into the pit once more. Gavin could only watch helplessly, dragged into nothingness as his brother returned to sight once more and plucked the folded, paper note from hand, pocketing it after a brief skim.

“Relax, Gavin,” Elijah’s voice echoed, invisible yet familiar fingers brushing back his sweaty bangs. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

  
_Beep, beep, beep._

 

  
As he was consumed entirely, Gavin’s mind went blank on a final prayer that this abyss might have a bottom.

 

It wasn’t the worst way to go out.

  
\-----

 

Compared to yesterday, the sun shining down against Detroit's tall, modern skyscrapers created a scene of paradise.

Gavin fucking hated it.

Leaning against the hood of the car, scabbed fingers itched against the worn dark denim of his jeans as a cigarette was pressed to his lips. The low gurgle of gasoline growled through the nearby pump; far louder than the electric cars zooming past the station. Driving an old clunker like his wasn’t entirely friendly on his wallet, especially in a world set on shaming everyone into environmentally friendly options.

He was used to being shamed.

Gavin didn’t trust those automated, electric vehicles. While reports were infrequent, he’d heard of hackers bumming free rides from the many driverless taxis circling the city. What was stopping someone with worse intentions from causing one of those vehicles to malfunction, purpose be damned?

Closing his eyes, Gavin released a soft huff before taking a drag his cigarette. The rush of nicotine made his muscles vibrate pleasantly; seducing his addiction like a reunited lover.

The bell of the station’s convenience shop dinged as the automatic doors opened.

“I don’t believe smoking that closely to the pump is safe, Detective.”

Gavin didn’t bother opening his eyes to glance over, enjoying the warmth of the morning rays pressing kisses across his face. The clicks of RK900’s dress shoes sounded as he rounded the car to the pump.

The detective welcomed the burn of another drag as he listened to RK900 replace the nozzle of the pump and close the gas cap, unsure how to respond to the android--or if he even should.

Usually, Gavin might have slapped RK900’s incessant chiding with a bit of trademark passive-aggression. Lord knows after working with the android for the past few months he’d come to appreciate and expect their back and forths.

But…

 

_“You don’t fucking do that shit!” Gavin yelled, balled fists shoving RK900 with every word. “What the fuck makes you think toying with my emotio--manipulating your fucking partner is in any way a team building exercise?!”_

 

Despite his vibrato and sharp-tongue, Gavin Reed was a coward at heart. He may bitch and moan about the smallest of slights--but when faced with a danger that threatened the integrity of his walls, retreat was the only option. And fuck did wish to be anywhere else but at the android’s side.

His stomach flipped as a hand wrapped around his wrist, halting him mid-motion from raising the cigarette to his lips once more. Eyes cracking open like lightning, Gavin glared up at the calm blue of RK900’s LED.

The android stared back at him, unaffected by the sour glower of the human as the cigarette was plucked from his fingertips. Tossing the paper stick to the ground, the android snubbed it out of existence with the toe of his shoe, smothering it as he’d smothered countless others.

The typical wisecrack never came in response to the action as Gavin pulled his wrist free, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. A silence settled between the two; RK900 the first to turn away.

He turned back just as quickly, holding out a wrapped sandwich and paper cup of coffee.

  
“I can tell you’re suffering a hangover, Detective. I’d advise you eat something before we reach St. Judes. It would be bothersome should you perform poorly due to a self-induced ailment,” The android explained, toneless and direct.

Perhaps the awkward stretch of silence that continued was of Gavin’s own making--but fuck was he irritated with this plastic motherfucker. Walked into the precinct as prim and proper as any other day; didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed or embarrassed.

The detective was not proud of the fact he’d drank himself into a numb stupor after retreating that previous night. Alcohol never judged and always forgave any issue it was employed to nurse. Pressed glass lips his own with every gulp and made him swoon as it chased away his fears.

Helped him forget his attraction to an immovable force for a few blissful hours.

Satisfaction pooled in his gut at the short yellow flicker of RK900’s LED as the offerings continued to hang unaccepted between them. Any tell or sign of discomfort in the non-deviant was a victory, if not for RK900 then for Gavin’s self-assuredness.

It was only after a second flicker than the Detective accepted the coffee and sandwich, pushing forward off the car and into the android’s space.

“Let's get this over with, tin can,” Gavin grumbled in lieu of a ‘thank you’, shooting another soft glower up at the android before rounding to the passenger side of the car. As he placed the cup on the roof for easier access to the handle, the detective glanced back over to find RK900 still stationed in the same spot he’d left him.

Gavin remained solid under the android’s icy gaze, despite an irrational desire to wither away.

“What the fuck are you just standing there for, Nines? Vámonos!”

Worry and irritation waged battle in his chest, forcing his tone to grow harsh despite a more rounded bite.

At the snarl and crack of the passenger door handle, RK900 finally spurred into action and followed suit in settling into the driver’s seat. Every action, from opening the door to putting his seatbelt on, felt mechanical--tagging discomfort into the battle within Gavin’s gut, mid-fight.

Silence resumed between the partners, broken only by the rumble of the engine as the car was started and pulled out of the station.

The reception on the radio faded in-and-out as they weaved through morning traffic, the news anchor’s voice buzzing robotically as he droned about last night’s game. He might have changed the channel or turned it off completely had his muscles not shared a parallel, anxious buzzing.

With a silent puff of air to try and steady his nerves, Gavin unwrapped the small bundle in his lap to reveal a simple, greasy breakfast sandwich. His brow furrowed, as he looked over the sandwich--used to the shitty food that convenience stores usually reheated and served.

This was homemade… Fried crispy eggs nestled on a toasted English-muffin, topped with crisp bacon and golden cheddar. It had cooled off significantly since it had been initially produced but fuck if the greasy bastard didn’t taste good after a tentative bite.

The detective wasn’t blind to the brief jerk of RK900’s chin nor his stolen glance--Gavin kind enough not to acknowledge it.

Eating in silence, Gavin allowed himself to relax against the door as they drove, watching as the gleaming towers of the city began to dull and fade as they exited the metropolitan area. Colorful advertisements became few and far between as business turn to residential.

And there they entered the ghost town of Old Detroit.

“Didn’t know you could cook,” Gavin finally spoke up, paper crinkling in his hands as he rolled the remnants of his breakfast into a tight ball.

A beat of silence followed, RK900’s hands tightening on the wheel before a simulated breath was released.

“That shouldn’t be defined as cooking. It makes no logical sense that the ‘most important meal of the day’ should consist of such high cholesterol,” The android gripped, glancing to Gavin with somewhat of relief drawing his words out in quick succession. “I do not approve.”

While the tension festered between them, Gavin felt a parallel relief in being allowed to bury last night with the rest of his repressed shit. Call him possessive, but he liked his android to much to have to let him go over a kiss--no matter how touch starved he felt for it.

“You don’t eat,” Gavin hummed, taking up his coffee to warm his palms. “So I don’t really think you’re entitled to an opinion.”

“I see,” RK900 sighed dramatically, chancing a glance to his partner before returning his eyes to the road. “When you die of a heart attack, expect a hearty ‘I told you so’ to be included in your eulogy.”

Gavin snorted into his coffee, bitter amusement fluttering through his chest. “Don’t think I’ll be dying from that, but fucking go wild, Nines. I’ll be worm food, what will I care? Just don’t bury me in my uniform or spend money on a casket. Fucking burn my dead ass.”

The human smirked, glancing to the android at his elbow. “Just try not to cry too hard when I’m go--”

Yellow. Yellow. Red. Yellow. Red.

The words died on his tongue as he watched RK900’s LED flicker with color, grip on the steering wheel dangerously tight. He stared ahead unblinkingly, lips pulled into the tight ghost of a grimace.

“Nines? You with me?”

Icy blue eyes came back into focus after a few blinks of dark lashes against pallid cheeks. A soft flush of started blue bloomed across the android’s high cheekbones as he turned to meet Gavin’s gaze, lips tugging as he likely struggled to remain neutral.

“My apologise, Detective,” He rumbled, gaze flickering visually away from Gavin’s eyes to the collar of his shirt. “It seems I grew distracted by a train of thought.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Gavin didn’t want to talk about any deep shit, but he found himself wanting for that impassive wall he’d dealt with earlier. Seeing RK900 freak out was…. Unsettling.

He had a strong feeling he knew what existential crisis was buzzing in that supercomputer brain--and fuck if it wasn’t a road he hadn’t driven down one too many times.

“No,” The android muttered firmly, turning back to the road as they merged onto the same off-ramp they had visited the previous day. Distantly, Gavin could make out the LED police tape enclosing the crime scene, albeit lacking the show of force that had meandered the area.

“Well,” Gavin sighed, taking a sip of coffee as he settled his shoulder against the door. “Just know that you can talk to me about anything, no matter how stupid. I might make fun of you, but that’s the price we pay.”

The detective could feel blue eyes burning into the side of his face as he looked out the window, watching as empty shop by empty shop whizzed by.

 

  
“I’m with you to the end, Nines. There’s no getting rid of me.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twitter.com/Penxes
> 
> should you want to see the shit I retweet or message me directly.
> 
> also still praying that the imagined Gavin/RK900 discord exists.


	11. RA9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter yet. I'll likely be coming back to it to try and fix some errors or awkward grammar I might have missed but the content will not change.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it and lord was I spoiled last chapter with all of your lovely comments. I hope this is just as juicy as the last big reveal. <3
> 
> As I said before, if you wanna drop by my twitter that I use to reblog shitty memes, you can hit me up at twitter.com/penxes

 

The concept of the death was often a topic RK900 didn’t dwell on despite his chosen career path. Avoiding the prospect of mortality, perhaps, was foolish when one’s job was to unravel death into traceable patterns.

He knew the stages of decomposition in understanding the length of time since death. Blood splatters told stories of pattern, weapon, and force when investigating cold crime scenes. Often, when closing his eyes, he would bring up the still images of long-dead corpses as he searched for those small clues he may have missed the first time.

But the death of himself or those close to him?

Those were unpleasant impossibilities.

 

_“I’m with you to the end, Nines. There’s no getting rid of me.”_

 

A short glance to his side revealed the detective leaning against the car door, staring down at his phone with heavy lids. His thumb brushed over the screen as email-after-email scrolled past, all marked as read with a tiny grey envelope.

Gavin’s cheek rested on his free hand, squishing his cheek to his teeth and forcing his ever-present grimace into a pursed pout. Had he not been responsible for driving, RK900 might have pondered over the cut on the Detective’s lip and the way it had contrasted from the soft, undamaged tissue when brushed over the sensors of his tong--

 

**< Software Instability ^>**  
**<  Instability Patched>**

 

RK900’s head jerked back to the road ahead, traffic non-existent in the desolate streets of Old Detroit. The LED at his temple spun gold as he put extra processing power into abating his growing stress level. The occasional bright red lines of his metaphysical cage blinked in the corner of his eyes; taunting, and ever-present.

“You missed the turn,” Gavin called, drawing RK900 from his thoughtless reverie as he turned his attention once more to the human at his side.

“Sorry,” Came RK900’s soft murmur, blinker clicking on as he turned at the next block.

More instability warnings flashed in his peripheral as a lie, an excuse, tickled the sensors of his tongue. While Gavin loved to call him a blunt bastard, the ability to lie went against his core programming and often left him seeing red should he be dishonest beyond the requirements of his job.

The android thought back to the previous night and the scores of warning messages he’d been forced to clear from his system’s history during standby.

 

_“I know you are sexually attracted to me so I thought it might benefit our working relationsh--”_

 

Emotions and irrational tendencies were fleeting within Cyberlife’s most advanced model, often banging and smashing against his cage before they had the chance to manifest themselves into reality. If the construct that prevented him from wholly deviating was as truly powerful as Cyberlife boasted--what reasoning did he have for kissing Gavin?

The excuse, the lie, that he’d made towards his actions--a beautiful, deep flush in the human’s face as he’d demanded answers--had been not only for the detective’s benefit but his own. An excuse, a lie, an assumption regarding the irrational desire to touch, taste, experience Gavin Reed.

The error messages were as much a punishment as the scabbed fingers that had jabbed furiously at his chest because of his miscalculation.

“Hey.”

“Mm?” RK900 blinked as he wavered on the cusp of attentiveness, LED flashing a furious yellow at the side of his head. While rust was an impossibility given the heavy e-coating applied to his joints, there was a nervous creak in the turning of his head and the unsettling bite of his jaw.

They were no longer moving, situated comfortably at the side of a road in front of a single rowhouse. Gavin stared at him, frowning deeply as his eyes flickered between the LED and RK900’s tight expression.

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”

RK900 remained silent as he played back the logs archived by his audio processors. While it would generally be easy to exclude files that were not sorted under ‘Gavin Reed’, he was somewhat bothered to note how abundantly the detective took up his storage.

Worrisome.

 

**< Software Instability ^>**  
**<  Instability Patched>**

“You asked if I had received a list of the current residents of this facility. Unfortunately, I was unable to acquire such a list.”

Gavin glowered softly at the android before heaving a sigh and unbuckling his belt. “No matter. We’ll see what we can get from the manager. C’mon, tin can.”

With a jerk of his head toward the sidewalk, the detective popped the door open and briskly stepped out. Closing his eyes, RK900 allowed a few brief seconds to compose himself before following suit. As he stepped from the vehicle, the android turned to glance at the refurbished structure.

If he was correct, the building had been constructed in the late 1970’s as an apartment complex. The original orange brick remained in today’s structure, albeit renovations had recently been completed in order to make it habitable after a long period of disuse. Empty lots that had previously surrounded the building were cleared away to supply a garden to the current residents of St.Judes.

The gardens were surprisingly immaculate for a facility homing the misfortunate. Even as fall was nearing winter, annuals stood tall despite their doubtless struggle through morning chill. Plots, where living plants might have stood, contained carefully tended soil with small markers designating the bulbs planted in preparation for their long slumber before spring.

A lone figure stood a distance away, raking leaves into neat piles; soft whistling drifting across the plaza--enough for RK900 to pick out the perfect pitches only an android could accomplish.

“Excuse me, detective,” The android murmured, shutting the car door before rounding to the sidewalk. Gavin followed a good few paces behind, no doubt confused as they avoided the door of the shelter in favor of approaching the android caretaker.

The android did not appear to take immediate notice of either detective as he swept the leaves into a towering pile of Auburn fire. From this close-up, RK900 could make out the dirt caked beneath the android’s nails, undoubtedly the sole caretaker of this lot.

The whistling came to an abrupt halt in tandem with RK900’s steps.

“Do you work here? We are with the Detroit Police investigating a murder that happened a few blocks from this facility,” RK900 explained, choosing to exclude the fact that the body had been moved to the location as opposed to having died there.

The android remained stock still, pulling the rake firmly to its chest defensively. Inaudible whispering drifted over the caretaker's shoulder. RK900 frowned, glancing back to Gavin who appeared equally troubled by the odd reaction.

Turning back, RK900 needlessly cleared his throat. “My name is RK90--”

“No. No no no,” The android moaned, shoulders hunching forward. “Ralph will not help the Deviant Hunter. No no. Never help the traitor.”

RK900 froze, confusion washing over him as he listened to the blond’s ramble. While he rarely accessed the file, he had been awoken with all of Connor’s memories pre-deviancy in preparation for eventually succeeding him.

A quick search of ‘Ralph’ brought up a deviant Connor had arrested shortly after beginning his work with the DPD. His predecessor would often divulge his guilt in the quiet hours of the night regarding those he had failed before deviating; How many had died by his own hand or its influence.

Given the fact Ralph had been handed over to Cyberlife for decommissioning, it was a wonder that he was still alive.

“Your name is Ralph.”

“Ralph will not help you!”

The blond android spun around, jaw clenched tightly as bewildered anger shone in his eyes. The rake was held aloft, pointed at RK900 as a wordless threat albeit a plastic one. RK900 examined the display with cold regard, eyes traveling up the handle of the makeshift-weapon to its owner.

Deep scarring marred one side of the android’s face; cruel valleys carved across his high cheekbones and split across his lips. The synthetic skin in the damaged area had darkened and shriveled, likely due to a weak signal from the torn nerves of his faceplate. It was curious why he wouldn’t have gone into a Cyberlife store to get repaired or reset, but perhaps the rake shaking in his hands was answer enough.

“I am not the deviant hun--”

“No! You will not lie to Ralph!” The android snarled, the broken skin of his face pulling tight as he bore his teeth. The rake gave a small jab forward as the android shifted his stance in the same way one might attempt to ward off a hungry lion with a stick.

RK900’s frown deepened as the shaking android’s stress levels skyrocketed.

“Hey, man,” Gavin called, walking forward to stand at RK900’s elbow, hands raised in front of himself to show that he was unarmed. “We really are here investigating a murder. If you aren’t comfortable talking to my buddy, you should chat with me.”

RK900 glanced to the detective, brows rising a fraction of an inch in surprise at how gently the man spoke, especially to a panicked android. Ralph recoiled further, distrust clear on his face as he mirrored Gavin’s slow steps forward, albeit backward.

“Humans are evil, evil, evil. They laugh as they hurt, Ralph. Tell Ralph to smile as they take blade to face,” The android moaned, eyes flickering between the partners. Thirium has darkened the sclera of one of his eyes, although it shined with as much defiance as his undamaged twin.

RK900 noted the irritated twitch of the human’s eyes as he came to a halt, hands still raised in front of himself.

“Not gonna hurt you. I can stand over here as we talk if it makes you more comfortable,” The detective pressed, smile straining on his lips. “My name is Detective Gavin Reed, and I also think Connor is a piece of shit.”

The two androids stared at the human in bewilderment, startled by his rather unprofessional claim of understanding. The LED at the side of RK900’s head twinkled yellow as the rake lowered slowly, Ralph blinking slowly as he stared at Gavin wondrously.

Self-doubt flickered in Gavin’s expression as the silence stretched on a beat longer than normal. Until--

Soft, rough laughter rumbled out of the android, shoulders quivering as the end of the rake dropped entirely to the ground. It was an uncomfortable laugh that danced up and down in pitches. Ralph raised one of his hands to cover his mouth, hiding the worst of the damage to his lips as he beamed.

“The deviant hunter, a piece of shit. Yes, yes,” He snickered, eyes crinkling with mirth between the two. “Ralph will speak with the Detective. Only with the Detective, yes.”

RK900 frowned, glancing to Gavin upon noticing the human turning to face him.

“You head inside and interview the manager. I can handle this guy,” Gavin said, smile forced upon his face as his tone remained gentle. Ralph’s giggling had quieted into whispered snickers, fingers wringing the handle of the rake.

 

**< Software Instability ^>**  
**<  Instability Patched>**

 

RK900’s first instinct was to decline the suggestion, uncomfortable at the idea of leaving Gavin alone with an android that appeared to be entirely unstable. Connor’s memories provided Ralph with a history of violence towards androids and humans alike.

He remained silent, however, at the stern shine of the detective’s eyes and the thumb hooked into the belt loop of his jeans closest to his service weapon.

With the tight press of his lips, RK900 offered a curt nod before turning and making his way to the front of the facility. His LED remained a constant yellow as irrational prompts to stay, stay, stay beat against his proverbial walls.

It was only when he had rounded the corner at the street and lost line of sight that a needless puff of air passed over his lips. The android closed his eyes, hands rising to straighten his already impeccable tie.

Offering himself a small nod of encouragement, RK900’s arms dropped to his sides before climbing the stoop of the rowhouse and pushing the door inward.

The temperature sensor on his skin registered the polished foyer he stepped into as comfortably warm. A row of neatly hung jackets stood to his left, shoes of various conditions and styles tucked into a shelving unit below. His LED spun yellow as he contemplated taking off his own, having learned from Lieutenant Anderson that is was courteous to do so in a stranger’s home.

It was likely more of a tough-love lesson as it had been dealt in furious bellows after RK900 and Sumo had tracked mud through the kitchen after a particularly rainy walk.

“Oh, you don’t have to take off your shoes, sir,” The soft voice of a woman called at the same time he’d leaned down to unlace the first of his shoes. Fingers pausing, RK900 glanced up as a plump, dark-skinned woman walked over. Age lines pulled indiscreetly at the corners of her eyes, but the warmth she exuded made her look incredibly younger than her detected age.

“You must be RK900 from the Detroit Police. My name is Rose,” She introduced herself, offering the android a hand as he stood back up to his full height. “I’m the manager of St. Judes. Myrtle let us know you might be dropping by for a visit.”

A feeling that he could only call irritation fluttered through his processors at the mention of the difficult elderly woman.

The android nodded, arms folding behind his back as pulled up all records the DPD had on one ‘Rose Chapman’.

“You ran a smuggling ring during the revolution,” RK900 murmured in lieu of a return greeting, brows rising in the hint of surprise. “It says in your file that you had been arrested at the Canadian border after you were found assisting deviants to cross the river.”

Rose’s smile flicker as she stood her ground, undoubtedly confused by the sudden interrogation.

“I did,” She said truthfully, hands folding into the pockets of her cardigan as she stared up at the Android’s blinking LED. “‘Course they released us after the President called her troops off the Androids. There weren’t any legal grounds by which to continue holding us, so we were sent on our way a few hours after getting picked up.”

The android nodded in understanding, noting that aside from the brief arrest, her record indicated no further history of crimes apart from illegal possession of marijuana in her teenage years. And that been merely a slap on the wrist.

“Why are you in Detroit, ma'am? It says here that you are still registered as living in a residence a few hours from the city,” RK900 asked, eyes flickering between the woman’s face and the tidy foyer. Most of the furniture and fixtures were made of wood that was polished immaculately, undoubtedly at the hand of an android resident.

If the care that was taken into making the gardens and foyer look presentable were evidence enough, this was undoubtedly the place of welcome it advertised itself to be.

“I do have a farm that my boy is taking care of during the winter. Farming is slow in the off-season. A lot of preparation for spring and sittin’ around,” Rose hummed, smiling as the android’s attention returned back to her.

“I spent a good many months helping deviants escape the horrors of their old lives, and while I’m proud of the work I was able to do, I often find myself wondering if there was more that I could have done.”

The woman frowned, pulling her cardigan more tightly around herself.

“‘Course things are different now, and androids are becoming freer ‘n freer with every passing day,” Rose hummed, her brief frown disappearing into a sad smile as she gazed up at the android. “But we all know that society will be slow to follow such a radical change, and those less fortunate won’t suddenly have the golden, beautiful lives they are legally promised.

“So… I reached out to the deviant leader Markus and offered whatever aid was within my power. Before I knew it, I had a farmhouse full of his inner circle planning out this.”

RK900 followed her hands as they extracted from her cardigan to wave out towards the walls surrounding them. “This as well as other facilities and programs to help those who need it, human and android.”

 

**< Software Instability ^>**  
**<  Instability Patched>**

 

The android frowned, fingers wringing behind his back as he regarded the woman before him. After a brief moment of contemplation, he closed the file under her name and offered a small tip of the head. “I hope there are more people like you in this city, Mrs.Chapman. You will be one of the influencers who shape the future of our kind.”

The woman smiled at the compliment, a sheepish wrinkle at the corner of her mouth. “History always has a tendency to repeat itself, Detective. If I can make a recommendation--perhaps you should judge others by their character before you delve into the history of their crimes. Many of the residents who find themselves in one of our homes have pasts they would prefer remained buried for numerous reasons. We have good people here.”

The android repeated his nod before unfolding his hands from behind his back. “Speaking of your people, would I be able to get a list of your current and past residents?”

Rose’s smile faltered. “Unless you have evidence that one of my residents might be responsible for this crime, you’ll need to go through the right legal channels for that. I’m afraid we take the confidentiality of our residents seriously. If you’d like, you’re welcome to walk around the house and speak to anyone who is willing to chat with you--so long as you remain out of anyone’s personal quarters without their permission.”

“That is acceptable,” RK900 agreed. “I will extend this information to my partner once he arrives.”

“Let me know if you need anything, RK900. I’ll be in my office just down the hall,” Rose concluded, offering the android her hand.

RK900 watched her retreat after extracting hand from the short shake, LED circling yellow as added the restrictions of his visit to the sub-mission he was currently on. Red bars appeared in areas he was not allowed to access, primarily doors upon which names had been written on small dry erase boards.

Glancing to a window overlooking the garden, the android could just make out the top of Gavin and Ralph’s heads. He resisted the urge to walk over to assess if his assistance might be required. Closing his eyes, RK900 expelled a breath and turned on his heel, following a sign that indicated a common room and kitchen.

The heels of his dress shoes tapped a pleasant beat against the polished wood floor.

Throughout the next twenty minutes, RK900 spoke with a human couple who had a long series of red ice related crimes on their track record as well as an android nanny who had been wanted for killing her previous owner upon escape. It was difficult to ignore their histories as he spoke with them regarding the crime, but he did his utmost to take Rose’s words to heart.

It was strange how ‘gabby’ deviants and humans were when it came to conversation. He had approached these three with a request for information and ended up listening to unrelated stories of life. Learned of the pride the couple shared in their struggle to remain clean from the insidious drug. Watched the excellent work the nanny android was doing within the organization through interface.

These were criminals by definition who were trying to make the most of their lives in a world set on burdening them, deservedly or not.

Perhaps it might do his shame-filled predecessor some good in visiting.

Connor would get more out of this visit than RK900 did, that was certain.

By the time he’d said his farewells to the android, skin covering his hand as the interface close, RK900 was left with zero new information regarding the crime. The alibies the three had presented were solid at a preliminary glance and, until he was able to subpoena information out of the actual management, there was no further course of action aside from speaking with other residents.

Looking for a bloody needle in an ever-growing haystack.

As he made his way back to the front lobby, a particular door caught his attention; the tap, tap tap of his shoes growing softer as he came to a hesitant halt.

 

Ralph.

 

The door was no different from the other occupied rooms lining the hall; dry erase board containing the same looping handwriting from whoever designated room assignments. Likely Rose, herself.

As with all the others, the red warning lines gave him pause and flashed ‘Do Not Enter’ angrily across his vision.

What differed this room from the others, however, was the damaged, splintered wood surrounding the handle. The lock had undoubtedly been broken, likely by Ralph-himself if the brief reconstruction of events was to be believed. The wood splintered down and inward, indicating a heavy blow from the outside.

Reaching out, RK900 ignored the blinking warning text as he tested the handle.

 

**< Software Instability ^>**  
**<  Instability Patched>**

 

The door swung open without a single turn of the knob before coming to a stop after clicking against the inner wall. Reaching up to his LED, RK900 tapped a short pattern against the device and waited as the warning signals cleared from his vision. He could still hear every faint, distressing chime as the messages appeared but they were far easier to ignore.

His limbs dragged as he stepped through the threshold of the room, static filling his audio receptors as his feet planted within. As the room lacked windows due to its placement within the center of the house, dark shadows were harshly cast over the meager furnishings; the light from the hallway losing its battle against the creeping darkness.

Eyes flickering over the space, it took RK900 the breath of a moment before his fingers located and switched on the lights of the room.

The scene before RK900 gave him pause.

**RA9. RA9. RA9. RA9. RA9.**

**RA9. RA9. RA9. RA9. RA9.**

**RA9. RA9. RA9. RA9. RA9.**

 

The words covered every inch of the walls, carved cruelly with some sort of blunt object. There was no pattern or order in how the words had been laid out, various sizes and depths littering the room. RK900’s LED flash red as he stepped into the middle of the room and turned in a slow arc, the static filling his ears growing louder and more grating.

There did not appear to be any personal possession within the room, aside from a quilt folded neatly at the end of a torn mattress. Foam and filling peeked from the deep carving within the bed.

Frowning, RK900 reached forward and ran his fingers over one of the more profound tears in the bedding. Something metal brushed the sensors of his thumb. Jerking his hand back, the android blinked in confusion. Steeling himself, his hand returned to the tear once more and grasped onto what was revealed to be a polished metal box.

Sitting on the undamaged end of the mattress, the android placed the box in his lap before turning it in his hands as he gave it a once over. His brows lifted in surprise as he found a Cyberlife logo laser cut into the base of the container. Before the revolution, most androids came with specialized repair kits for their designated models.

What troubled RK900 was the lack of a serial number determining whose repair kit this belonged to. Only the model designation ‘RK’ was carved into a neat little, unassuming corner. Flicking back the latches on the side of the kit, RK900 let the lid fall open onto his knees as he examined its contents.

Foam had been inlaid within the box, cut precisely for the tools the designated android might require.

Packets of red ice replaced those non-existent tools.

 

**< Software Instability ^>**  
**<  Instability Patched>**

**< Software Instability ^>**  
**<  Instability Patched>**

**< Software Instability ^>**  
**<  Instability Patched>**

RK900’s LED began to blink faster as he extracted one of the packets, turning it over in his hand beneath the light of the room’s lone bulb. Popping open the sealing at the top, the android dipped his finger into the powder before pressing it to his tongue.

A scream sounded from the front of the house in tandem with the red ice coming up as a match to that of their victim.

 

**< Software Instability ^>**

 

The box clattered unceremoniously to the floor as RK900 jumped to his feet, LED settling into a solid red. Bursting from the room, the android braced his hand on the wall as his dress shoes slid against the polished wood mid-stride.

He could make out the back of Rose and the human couple as their stared out the window overlooking the garden.

_Gavin._

**< Software Instability ^>**

**< Software Instability ^>**

**< Software Instability ^>**

 

RK900’s stress levels rose rapidly as he bolted for the door, ripping it open violently in his haste. The handle slammed into the wall as he rushed out, taking the stoop two steps at a time. His thirium pump began to overheat as it received the irrational signal to pump faster--but that was a bug he could deal with later.

Rounding the corner of the house, the android nearly tripped as he finally paid witness to the scene that had startled the home’s humans.

Ralph’s body covered Gavin’s own, knees splayed on either side of the human’s chest. His hands wrapped tightly around the detective’s neck as he leaned down, staring wordlessly with thick tears running down his nose; the skin peeled back from his hands.

Blood flowed heavily from Gavin’s nose and over the bow of his lips. His fingers were wrapped equally as tight to the android’s wrists; gun abandoned a few feet away. Blood vessels had burst in the corner of one of his eyes as he struggled for breath.

**“Gavin!”**

RK900’s body vibrated as he ran, heels digging carelessly into the soft dirt of the garden as he raced single-mindedly. Hands closing around the blond android’s shoulder, the larger ripped him from his perch upon the detective and threw him forward to the ground.

Ralph appeared bewildered as he found himself on his back, confusion evident in his expression. Fear was quick to replace it as RK900’s weight fell upon him in furious blows. The android tried to scream, hands scrambling to block the cruel fists that connected with his face.

**< Software Instability ^>**

<Stop.>

 

“RA9! RA9! Array! Array Nine! You don’t understand! The human needs to know!” Ralph screamed, voice cracking with static as he protected his face from the metal-bending slams of fists. “Please! Stop!”

 

**< Software Instability ^>**

<Stop.>

 

RK900 shook as his stress levels peaked dangerously, taking pleasure in every blow he dealt to the android below him. Ralph continued to ramble, skin deactivating as he struggled to remain conscious. The red lines of his cage came came crashing around him-- weighing heavily on his shoulders--suffocating and crushing the pounding pump in his chest.

A hand wrapped around RK900’s elbow as he raised his fist for another punch. 

 

<Nines. Stop.>

   
“Nines,” Gavin wheezed, forehead pressing to RK900’s shoulder in exhaustion. “Stop.”

RK900 froze, turning to glance back at Gavin as Ralph began to giggle wetly, voice crackling. The blond android writhed as his giggles picked up into more deep laughter, hands covering the whole of his face.

“Array nine! How could I have forgotten!”

He remained ignored as the partners stared at each other, one wide-eyed while the other sagged with drooping lashes. Hesitantly, RK900 reached up and cupped the human’s face in his large palms, running his thumb over the blood on Gavin’s lip.

_Had he really…_

_It was…_

RK900’s body quaked with his soaring stress levels as the skin of his hands peeled away, metal pressing coolly to Gavin's flushed cheeks.

 

<Gavin?>

.

.

.

<Nin-->

 

The android moved quickly in catching the human as he fell backward, eyes rolling into the back of his head. The detective didn’t respond when RK900 called his name, lids closing as unconsciousness overtook him. Pulling him bodily to his chest, the android cradled Gavin as his mind tried to make any semblance of sense regarding what was occurring.

Ralph continued to bellow with laughter.

As the skin traveled once more down the planes of his arms, the soft squish of approaching steps had RK900 pulling the unconscious man closer to himself. Warmblood stained the shoulder of his jackets, and he cradled the back of Gavin’s head with his hand.

The woman who approached had dark, cropped hair framing a pale face. Her hands were tucked into the long, dark jacket of her coat as she walked; professional, insensible heels sinking into the wet grass with suckling pops. When she came to a stop above him, RK900 glanced into concerned green eyes and a sad smile.

It didn’t take much digging to know who this was.

“...You’re the red ice dealer.”

Her smile grew impossibly sadder as she nodded.

 

 

  
“My name is Chloe. I’m here to help.”

 

 

  

 

 

 

 


	12. Cast Iron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Guys. I had been planning to post this during the weekend but then my dog's health deteriorated and it hit me pretty fuckin' hard. 
> 
> I hope y'all like this chapter. I really enjoy writing Hank and Connor despite this being a Reed900 fic, oops. 
> 
> BTW! I made a tumblr specifically for my AO3 work if you want to chat with me there, see some WIPS, or request ficlets <3
> 
> pencewrites.tumblr.com
> 
> Hit me up! <3

 

 

_Tap, tap, tap._

 

 

Deviancy was a strange affair. Scattered attentiveness, volatile emotions, and the tendency for rash decision-making were a recipe for disaster in the RK800 series. While the initial intention of his creation was to be a walking lie that might blend seamlessly into human or android society, Connor was not supposed to end up alive.

When he had first deviated--after the call for battle had quieted into the whisper of history--Connor absolutely hated it. To have his attention stolen by the flicker of a butterfly’s wing or the flash of a suspect’s watch was cumbersome. While he may have been equipped with processing power far more advanced than his mass-produced brethren, his straying mind made him feel useless.

Broken.

What he hated the most were dreams…

The first time he had dreamt, Connor had been woken by an ironic slap across the face. His optic units struggled to focus on the aging Lieutenant, cheeks cradled within the man’s palms. The android’s throat had buzzed as he unconsciously spoke, fingers curled tightly into the human’s shirt.

 

_“Please, Hank! Let me go back! Let me try again!”_

 

Grief and fear were unpleasant fellows on Hank’s face, hands shaking as he pulled Connor into a tight embrace.

It was the first time he’d ever cried.

What an unpleasant sensation.

 

_Tap, tap, tap._

As the days went by and he began to grow used to the idiosyncrasies of deviancy, Hank shared with him the healthier coping mechanisms he had employed after Cole’s death. Every day saw a new, colorful post-it note slapped into peculiar places--all displaying things Connor liked and spelled out small promises in perfect Cyberlife sans.

‘I like dogs’ plastered in pretty pink beneath the countless messages Hank had promised himself on the mirror.

‘I like basketball’ had hung briefly on the holoscreen during March Madness; most of his evening spent with a boisterous, cheering Hank. He decided to remove it after he realized he enjoyed watching the Lieutenant's excitement more than the game.

‘I like Hank’ replaced it soon after.

“I like you too, kid,” was often a sound bite he retreated to when his anxiety was at its worst.

 

_Tap, tap, tap._

 

His latest post is hung on the fridge on unassuming yellow. The Cyberlife san was more rounded and shaky after these months of living as a deviant and Connor was determined to find handwriting of his own.

The blade of the kitchen knife continued to tap expertly against the cutting board as he glanced over his shoulder to the message. The acidic rise from the crisp onions tickled the sensors on his tongue but did not initiate further testing.

‘I like to cook.’

Taking up the cutting board, Connor crossed two short paces to the stove on which a cast iron pan heated. The bottle of olive oil he swirled over its steaming surface gurgled comically as viscous yellow spread across the stone. A pleasant sizzle filled the kitchen as onion and garlic were dispensed into the pan.

Perhaps adding suffixes to his notes might assist in narrowing the broad statement into a relatable solid. Eating and taste were impossibilities for the android. He’d “eaten” a doughnut to help Hank win a bet--only to sit up for hours with his chest cavity open as he scrubbed his components clean of the sticky, caramelized mess.

Perhaps ‘I like to create’ or the overly simple ‘I like Hank’ fit the action of cooking better.

He liked turning base ingredients into an elegant whole. Tricking the Lieutenant into eating healthier was an added bonus.

Turning the flame down on the stove, the android emptied the deglazed onions from the pan into a nearby dish before dropping in raw chicken breast he had previously diced. His focus felt divided as he watched the fleshy pink grow white against the boiling pan; all the while listening to the soft murmurings of the television a room away.

The pan hissed angrily as chicken broth and the vegetables were added and reduced to a simmer. Turning to the sink, Connor prepared to wash a few of his used utensils when a flicker from the window caught his full attention.

Stepping closer, the android pressed forward into the counter as he gazed out into the wet, cozy darkness of the backyard. Orange light from street lights cast shadows across the yard, and rain streaked against the glass. Little stirred in the shadows of the garden aside from soft sway of leaves as drizzle pelted harmlessly from the heavens.

Connor was prepared to write off the distraction as the irrational byproduct of his deviancy when red flickered in the corner of the yard. The pupils within Connor’s optic units expanded as he his night vision activated, casting the dark yard into a static green.

It was an android.

No. It was--

 

**“Hank!”**

 

Connor ducked down as the window shattered, glass falling into his hair and scattered across the linoleum floor. The soft thud of a bullet embedding into the ceiling could faintly be heard over Hank’s curses and Sumo’s barks.

“What the hell is going on, Conn--”

“Stay down Lieutenant! It’s Cyb--”

 

**Thud! Thud!**

 

Connor’s call was cut off as two perfect shots shattered the lock of the back door. The RK800 jumped to his feet as the door was kicked in, slamming violently into the plaster of the wall. Glass crunched under the heels of polished dress shoes as the intruder stepped into the small kitchen, gait confident and determined.

Over the tall brim of a white collar and shining Cyberlife logo, Connor found himself staring at an imperfect reflection of… himself. And above a sharper jaw and higher cheekbones, cold blue gazed back as the gun rose again.

RK900. His replacement.

“Hello, Connor.”

Before a greeting could be returned, the gun fired one, two, three shots. Luckily, the elder android had anticipated this course of action; his preconstruction ability having noticed the microscopic shift of muscles beneath the android’s knuckle.

The first bullet slammed loudly into the wall above the stove, pan continuing to sizzle unassumingly as debris fell into the mix.

The second followed his dive, clipping into his shoulder as the kitchen table was tipped with the sweep of a leg. Cutlery and ceramic tableware shattered loudly to the tile, mixing amid the glass crunching beneath the RK900’s feet.

Connor cringed as he ducked behind his makeshift cover, holding his bleeding shoulder as the third bullet tore an ugly hole into the tabletop nearest his ear. His LED spun a violent red as he noticed Hank crouching behind the couch, pistol at the ready.

Fear was another emotion deviancy had gifted him, and the look of determined fury in the Lieutenant's set jaw sparked the cold rush of dread.

 

_‘Don’t. Please.’_

 

“I would prefer you not make this harder than it needs to be, RK800,” Drawled a mechanical voice, tone dripping with boredom amidst the entire lack of emotion. “It would be a shame should collateral damages occur if you continue to resist.”

Hank’s eyes met his own as the RK900 spoke, aged fury meeting full, fearful brown. He was satisfied to know that his silent pleading was understood by the older human--satisfaction dashed when Hank hopped to his feet, gun training on the armed android.

“Hold it, motherfucker! Drop your weapon!”

Glass shifted under RK900’s feet as he turned to face the human, staring coldly over the table at the foolish man. Connor was shocked to hear the slightest sigh of disappointment as the gun was raised once more to meet Hank’s own.

No further shots rang out in the house as one-hundred and sixty pounds of fur latch onto his ankle. On any other day, it might have been hilarious to watch Cyberlife’s best-and-brightest stumble in bewilderment as Sumo’s teeth tore into his pressed pant leg.

The thirium rapidly leaking from Connor’s shoulder reminding him how of unfunny this actually was.

Launching from behind the table, the elder android slammed his injured shoulder into RK900’s gut, sending them both stumbling back into the counter. Sumo let out a loud whine as he was kicked away, nails skidding on the tile.

The younger android’s LED flashed a rapid red as he braced himself on the counter and flicked his gun upward toward the matching red of Connor’s.

Reaching behind him, Connor sent food spilling to the floor as he wrapped his hand around the handle of the cast iron pan, artificial skin peeling back as he registered the damaging heat. Error messages ignored, the pot lifted in time to intercept the killing shot with a ringing ping.

The final few bullets within the clip dented the metal further-ping, ping, ping--before silencing into harmless clicks.

Before RK900 had a chance to dispel the empty clip, the heavy metal of the pan slammed into the side of his head. Connor was never given the opportunity to throw a second swing before his wrist was grasped in an iron grasp--furious blue eyes glaring at him as artificial skin regrew at the point of impact.

An audible crunch sounded as Connor’s wrist snapped and he was thrown to the ground in tandem with the loud slam of the cast iron skillet falling from his grip. RK900 weight followed as he straddled his predecessor’s chest, wrapping large palms around a pale freckled neck.

“Connor!”

 

_‘I can’t breathe. Help. I can’t--’_

 

Fucking irrational thought.

RK900 was unphased by the blows Connor dealt with his good arm, panic sparking a rise in the older model’s stress levels. He could feel the metal within his throat bending inward under the violent android’s incredible strength. Static tickled his pointless gasps, brown eyes widening at the smallest tick at the corner of RK900’s mout--

 

**Bang, bang!**

 

The younger android jerked back as blue blood splattered the cabinet behind him, glancing down at the bullets embedded in his chest. Connor ignored Hank’s screaming as he pulled his legs up to wrap around the other android’s waist and twisted his body to reverse their position--effectively breaking RK900 from his shock at the bullets dangerously close to his thirium pump.

Before RK900 could retaliate, hands of unequal strength grasp the temples of his head as skin peeled back from long fingers. Blue eyes widen as red pulses faster.

“No!”

 

**< Interface initiated.>**

 

\-----

 

**< February 25, 2027>**

_Archived: Classified - Kamski, Elijah. | Investigation: Pending_

 

 

>   
>  _“When you work in a field of medicine, especially one focused on human advancement or the treatment of existing conditions, ethics is often a roadblock. As I am not a doctor, it is not often that I find myself in the awkward position of having to question whether my motivations are ethical in nature._
> 
> _I am an engineer and a professor._
> 
> _I cannot cure a cold or tell you why your shoulder hurts when you turn a certain way._
> 
> _If you wanted a better, stronger shoulder, however, that is where my employment with Elijah Kamski begins. (As for the cold, I make a pretty good chicken noodle soup, but you’d probably need to see a real doctor).”_

 

  
Long fingers dragged through the thick hair of Sumo’s head; thighs weighed down the beast’s impressive weight. Shadows hung heavily in the corners of the room, held at bay by the soft light of the muted holoscreen.

Connor’s LED spun in slow circles, dark lashes pressed to freckled cheeks as he paid little heed to the documentary flickering across the screen.

File after file from the ‘Kamski, Elijah’ folder fluttered across his processors as he dug through it; always returning to the series of letters sent under the name of ‘Amanda Stern’.

 

 

 

> _“One of my favorite thought exercises when it comes to the question of ethics is that of the ‘Trolley Dilemma’._
> 
> _You control the switch to a trolley track that divides between two lines. The trolley is currently barrelling down one road toward a group of five people. In many situations, these people can be distracted or tied up. In either, they are destined to die._
> 
> _On the other stands, a single person likewise distracted or incapacitated._
> 
> _Do you pull the switch and condemn that one person by your intervention to save the other five? Or do you refuse to act and allow the larger group to die?_
> 
> _In my younger days, it was easy to say I would pull the switch. The good of the many might always outweigh the good of the few._
> 
> _. . ._
> 
> _But eventually, my trolley problem became a reality and those strangers cursed to an inevitable fate were given faces--one of which, my own.”_
> 
>  

Having only met Amanda through the Garden and the many papers she had written during her years as a professor, Connor found a strange fascination in witnessing the informal ramblings of a brilliant mind. Perhaps unhealthy, equally unwise--but tempting all the same.

What he found troubling, however, were the dates scribbled at the top of the letter and the handwriting that did not match her own. The messages had come back inconclusive when tested for fingerprints, and the address it had been posted from had long been investigated as having little to no relation to the living Stern.

Or at least, that's what the FBI had reported in their findings.

 

 

>   
>  _“The question then is whether ‘tis nobler to burn one’s own life work in order to save one’s self or to continue down that narrow path for the betterment of all, at the substantial cost the unlucky few paid._
> 
> _In either scenario, my destruction is inevitable and, the path I chose, blurred.”_

  
Amanda Stern had been pronounced legally dead on February 23rd, 2027--two days before the letter’s date scribbled in looping ink at the top of the message.  
Had this letter been dictated in preparation for her death or was someone writing under the pseudonym of the dead professor…

 

 

>   
>  _“I can no longer sit idly by as my life’s work is bastardized at the whim of powerful men. I had hoped to spark change in a struggling world but to witness the reality that spawned…_
> 
> _Perhaps I am a hypocrite for coming so far and find pause in my step. Or, maybe even, I am experiencing the remorse for life’s sins that all dying persons feel._
> 
> _I can only hope that I am not too late.”_

  
Sumo grunted as he was shifted off of Connor’s lap, letting out a stuttered snore as he returned back to sleep. Getting to his feet, the android rounded the couch towards the dark hallway leading towards the bedrooms.

There was a slight hesitance before he pushed open the door to Cole’s room, eyes cast away from the handwritten sign hanging from a pin in the wood. The bedroom was tidy and colorful; dinosaur patterned sheets covering the expertly made bed.

When Hank had offered Connor the room, the android had been struck with the immediate inclination to refuse it. This was Cole’s room. He did not want to intrude or hurt the Lieutenant by attempting to replace the ghost that haunted him.

When Hank all but hurled Connor’s meager belongs into the closet with a generous ferocity, he inevitably accepted.

Thankfully he did not require sleep.

Dark eyes cast over colorful drawing Cole had taped to the walls, telling the story of a life long past. Connor’s particular favorite was a scribbled puppy peeking from within a gift box beneath the Christmas tree. To imagine that at one time Sumo had been small enough to cradle in a child’s arms was surprisingly delightful.

Crossing to the closet, Connor quickly stripped himself of his night clothing and hung it in the back of the closet--doing well to ignore the teal glow of his previous Cyberlife suit gathering dust in the back.

It might have been unwise to continue using the same disguise to every sting operation, but the android had yet to be called out until guns were drawn by all parties.

Fitting the beanie over his LED, the android chanced a glass at himself in a full-length mirror before offering the room a small nod of acknowledgment. Wished Cole goodbye.

Stepping back into the hall, Connor crossed to Hank’s own bedroom, the door cracked and doing little to contain the man’s impressive snores. It was here that the android began to tread carefully, predicting each step before touching heel-to-ground.

It wasn’t hard to locate the man’s keys tucked within the heavy jacket he was famous for. Connor whispered a small apology to the snoring Lieutenant as he swiped whatever physical money existed within the leather wallet placed upon the dresser.

His LED flashed as the exact amount was transferred back into Hank’s bank account.

The letter pulled up once more in his vision as he returned to the hallway and pulled the door shut behind him, mindful of the soft click as it sealed away the slumbering man.

 

 

>   
>  _More shall they speak, for now, I am bent to know,_  
>  _By the worst means, the worst. For mine own good,_  
>  _All causes shall give way. I am in blood_  
>  _Stepped in so far that, should I wade no more,_  
>  _Returning were as tedious as go o'er._
> 
>   
>  _(Shakespeare, 3.4.142-144_
> 
>  

Sumo’s head lifted over the back of the couch as Connor returned to the main room; fingers fumbling with the keys in his pocket. Discomfort and guilt made every step toward the door heavier and heavier.

But… he needed to know. He needed to see for himself if Amanda was indeed alive.

Sucking in a breath, Connor moved to grasp the handle when a voice broke him from his trance.

“You goin’ out to buy milk?”

Eyes widening, the android whipped around and slammed the door shut with his shoulders. Hank leaned against the corner of the hallway, arms crossed over the front of an old graphic t-shirt. Exhaustion deepened the lines in his face, and the look he gave the caught android was entirely unimpressed.

“I-I uh….”

“Or is this just a rebellious teenager phase in which you steal my keys to go for a joyride?”

“Hank, it’s not what you thi--”

“Connor. Point to where it says stupid on my forehead,” Hank huffed, pushing away from the wall to step a few places closer to the android. “You must believe me to be the biggest fool in the world if think I haven’t noticed you pouring over those dusty files. I worry about you, kid.”

Connor was quiet, glaring down at the dust particles that caught the twinkle of moonlight in their slow, floating dance.

“I need to see for myself, Hank…”

“It’s not our case.”

 **“I don’t care,”** Connor urged, voice cracking with desperate static.

There was a breath of silence exchanged between the two before Hank audibly groaned. Connor glanced up, pleadingly.

“Fine, fine. I wanted a vacation and I ain’t gonna turn down a road trip,” The man grumbled, ruffling his fingers through his hair as he turned back to the hall. He paused in his step to point an accusing finger at the android. “You stay right fuckin’ there. You ain’t leaving without me.”

Connor blinked once, twice, before a smile blossomed onto his face.

“Never, Lieutenant.”

With an affirmed nod, Hank disappeared back down the dark hallway, grumbling all the way.

Sumo let out a tired snort as he watched Connor from the couch, head continuing to lull on the back cushion. He could certainly see if someone from Jericho might come over to feed and walk Sumo while they were gone. It couldn’t be longer than a day trip.

“Go back to sleep, Sumo. We’ll be back lat--”

A loud, muffled yell sounded from down the other side of the house. **“Connor!”**

The android paused, twin heads turning to glance toward the hallway.

“Did you jack cash from my wallet?”

Sumo let out a low groan as he glanced to the now sheepish android.

 

_“Well, maybe just Hank--assuming he doesn’t disassemble me before we make it back.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	13. Breadcrumbs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I wanted to get a chapter out on 'Familiar' before Halloween. This isn't a huge chapter and I'm sure it will leave you with more questions than answers but I swear we're launching forward. 
> 
> Please note: I needed to ret-con something small from an earlier chapter. Perkins previously mentioned 'military service' in Gavin's file. This was something I had been planning to expand on but taking another look at it vs. the plot, it would be too much of a tangent. 
> 
> Please forgive me if this has caused any confusion.

 

 

“Ah! Good morning, Mr. Kamski.”

  
  
Until that moment, he’d been so fucking close to stealthing his way out of the manor. It had been a good few weeks since his last surgery, and every person in the fucking house was determined in keeping him in bed. While he loved Chloe to death, the nurse was by far the most overbearing when it came to ensuring he didn’t overexert himself.   
  
Amanda hadn’t been as bad, to be fair--kind enough to try and teach him the proper way of playing chest in one of the studies. Chloe had lingered, making sure that he was cushioned sufficiently to support the tender stitching in his chest.   
  
The professor’s kindness only extended so far, and he’d gone 0-6 in chess matches that day.   
  
And his brother?   
  
Well, he was kind enough when he wasn’t MIA--which was a blessing, really. More than once he’d walked through the foyer of the house and noticed the eyes of Elijah’s benefactors watching him from whatever meeting or interview that was being conducted.    
  
Staring at him hungrily, like a product that went to the biggest investor.   
  
Today, the house was blessedly quiet, and he’d receive no better opportunity slip out than now. Chloe had slipped out to pick up a few things from the store--which was another factor that played into his favor given how remote the Kamski household was from town.    
  
It was only when he’d hit the garden, soaking in the sun he’d desperately missed when he was busted.    
  
The teen flinched at the cheerful call and sagged in defeat, turning to face the chipper android. The smile on the WR600 was uncomfortably artificial; too perfect, too bright. Like a walking, talking advertisement for the latest dietary supplement.    
  
It was unnerving--although when wasn’t Gavin unnerved by Kamski’s projects.    
  
“Uh, hi.”    
  
The blond android’s smile brightened at the reluctant greeting. Dirt smudged its cheek and soaked the knees of its pants.    
  
“Did you require any assistance, Mr. Kams--”   
  
“Gavin. Don’t--Just call me Gavin. And no, I was going for a walk,” The teen interrupted, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt and curling his fingers into the fabric.    
  
The android blinked, smile faltering in tandem with the flicker of yellow in its LED.   
  
“I-I’m sorry, but I was given specific orders to ensure you remained on the premises,” The android explained, empty remorse saturating the mechanical delivery. “I cannot allow you to lea--”   
  
“I ain’t fuckin’ leav--” Gavin’s lips pressed together in an angry line, glaring at the WR600 who, by all means, was just doing its job.    
  
The teen released a sigh and crossed to a nearby bench, lowering himself onto it with a pained hiss. Fuck, it hurt when the stitches pulled.    
  
“I just wanted to get outside,” Gavin murmured, watching the simulation of relief pass over the android’s face. “I can’t stay cooped up in bed much longer… Get some fresh air, y’know?”   
  
The android blinked. “I do not breathe.”   
  
It was the teen’s turn to blink once, twice, before dissolving into aching laughter. He pressed a hand to the center of his chest as he snickered, watching in amusement at the growing confusion on the WR600’s face.   
  
“Did I say something humorous?”   
  
“Nah,” Gavin said amid breathy laughter, resting back against the varnished wood. “That was just an odd thing to admit. Aren’t you androids supposed to emulate human speech patterns and behavior?”   
  
The android smiled brightly. “Oh, no. I’m a failed prototype. After several social modules proved ineffective in passing the Turing test, my model was designated for manual labor with limited interaction with the general public.”   
  
“So gardening?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
Gavin hummed in acknowledgment, drawing his legs up in attempt to make himself more comfortable. He could probably shmooze his way through the android’s instruction in order to sneak off the property but, damn, did those shears look sharp.   
  
The WR600 had since returned back to pruning hedge bushes that lined much of the garden, pausing every now and again when Gavin would ask him small questions.    
  
“No, I cannot eat. I did once have a fly accidentally land in my oral cavity. I do not believe Mrs. Stern was pleased in having to open my chest plate to release it.”   
  
“I do not believe I can have a favorite color. Maybe green… Yes, green.”   
  
The android paused and glanced back to Gavin, brows raising in curiosity.    
  
“A name?”   
  
“Yeah. Like, WR600 is a bit of a mouthful isn’t it?” Gavin shrugged, resting his chin against his folded arms, legs drawn up to the bench.   
  
“Well actually, WR600 is only my series number. My model number is WR600-013-9--”   
  
“What about Ralph?”   
  
The android blinked, pausing mid-sentence as he glanced back to Gavin. He did not speak as his LED flashed a curious yellow.   
  
Gavin blushed, sitting up to rub at the back of his neck.   
  
“For your name. What if I call you Ralph?”   
  
The smile that blossomed on the android’s face was far more genuine than any of the pre-recorded grins he’d displayed. Turning back to the bush, the android let out a soft hum as he clipped expertly at the stray branches.

  
  
  
“My name is Ralph.”   
  
  
\-----   
  
  
“I don’t understand…”

  
  
White hot pain lanced through his skull; soft hissing passed over his lips as air was forced out through clenched teeth. The world swam and twisted around him, pressing and pulling, denying him the solace of equilibrium.    
  
Realistically, Gavin knew that he was laid out on something soft--leather kissing his fingertips as he curled them in an attempt to grasp onto anything stable. With a foggy brain, however, all he could focus on were the fireworks painted on the lids of his eyes.   
  
“Array nine, array nine.”   
  
A cold compress was laid across his temple, darkness bleeding over the colorful display accompanying his pain. His desperate clawing quieted into the muted clenching of fists as a small hand smoothed over his shoulder, urging him to relax.    
  
“It’s a rather long story, RK900.”   
  
RK900.   
  


_  
_ _ <Gavin?> _   
  


_. _

_. _

_. _

 

_ <Nines.> _

  
The pain returned in full force as the detective’s eyes shot open in sudden shock, jerking his body backward despite the limited space that the couch offered. His eyes ached from the sudden onslaught of light, and his muscles felt like putty regardless of the rigidity of his spine.    
  
A familiar face stared down at him, brow wrinkled with worry over the sparkling green of her eyes.    
  
“C-Chl--”    
  
Large hands replaced the small woman’s as he was helped to sit up, turning to plant his feet to the floor. Breath was hard to come by as his thoughts raced and pulse quickened, sweat beading at his hairline.    
  
  


  
_ “We’re making history, Gavin. The RT600 will cement our legacy.” _   
  


  
  
Soft circles were rubbed between his shoulder blades as he bent forward, hanging his head between his knees. Whispered assurance went unnoticed as a fire spread across his skin, torching his lungs with every gasp of air.   
  
“I need you to breathe with me, Detective.”   
  
RK900. WR600. Chloe. This wasn’t happening. _Thiswasn’tsupposedtohappen_. No no no.   
  


_  
_ _  
_ _ “A stepping stone, Gavin. We are on the cusp of immortality.” _ _  
  
_

  
  
“Detective. Gavin, please breathe with me.”   
  
The soothing circles on his back disappeared as he fell further, darkness bleeding into the corner of his eyes as his lungs reduced to cinder. And in that dark moment, as he embraced his panic and terror, death would be a mercy.   
  
Large hands cup his cheeks, forcing his head up to stare blearily into the cold tundra of his android’s eyes.    
  
Breathe in.   
  
One. Two. Three.    
  
Breathe out.   
  


_  
_ _  
_ _ “Kill him.” _ _  
  
_

  
  
He stared red-rimmed at the inaudible instruction coming from his partner, breath rattling as his eyes trained on the cupids bow of the android’s lips--demonstrating the technique for the human despite the non-necessity.    
  
Gavin’s shoulders shuddered as he pressed into the cool palms--a blessing to the pain and panic aching through him--following the android without protest.    
  
Breathe. Breathe.   
  
His eyes fall shut as the buzzing in his ears fades, listening to his own breath mingling with the crackling of a nearby fire and the pounding in his head. The WR600 continued to whisper across the room, occasionally shushed softly when his voice rose too high.    
  
Twin thumbs traced down his cheekbones as his breathing began to even out, small whispers of encouragement shared intimately across the space between them. The panic didn’t fade--this wasn’t his first rodeo when it came to panic attacks--but standing on the edge was better than a dangle.    
  
There was a slight hesitation from RK900 as Gavin pulled back, hands dropping a moment too late as if regretful in having to let go. They fell into his lap instead as he continued to crouch in front of the detective’s knees, pupils flickering with a clinical eye.   
  
“I’m fine,” Gavin grumbled, lids falling shut as he scrubbed a hand over his eyes. There was a sigh of disapproval from the android before him.    
  
“I wish you wouldn’t lie to me, Detective.”   
  
The detective’s lips curled into an angry snarl, opening his eyes to glare at the android between his knuckles. RK900 looked on with the neutral line of his lips, standing once more to his full height.   
  
Stepping to the side revealed a small sitting room within what he assumed was St. Judes. The green-eyed woman--Chloe…--stood a few paces away, wringing her hands together as she watched the detective, unblinking. Ralph was pressed into a chair furthest away, thirium smeared across his neck and the front of his clothing.    
  
Gavin closed his eyes as he willed away the sickening crunches he could remember from RK900’s descending fists.    
  
Chloe spoke up softly from where she lingered nervously. “Gavin…”   
  
Said man interrupted. “Why are you brunette?”   
  
Opening his eyes, the detective was surprised to see a subdued warmth in the woman’s expression; mirth tickling the sparkle of her eyes.   
  
“Disguise.”   
  
“Disguise? Anyone with half a brain can tell you’re an RT600.”    
  
The woman gave a soft shrug, moving a few steps closer to sit on the arm of an adjacent loveseat. Her fingers folded into her lap, twisting together nervously as she watched the exhausted human.    
  
There were too many fucking androids in the room.    
  
“I’ve been in Detroit for a few months now,” Chloe admitted, glancing away from his face and down to her lap. “My sisters haven’t come close to finding me. I’d say I’ve done a pretty decent job laying lo--”   
  
RK900 folded his arms behind his back as he spoke.   
  
“You are a distributor of one of the most potent supplies of red ice that has hit this city in recent years,” The android said, disregarding any need for discretion or niceties. “I would not call that ‘laying low’.”    
  
Anger was a natural friend to turn to when his anxiety and panic was at its peak--and boy was Gavin fucking angry.   
  
“That was YOU?!” He snarled, pinching one of his eyes closed as his furious yelling rattled around his skull. “Why the fuck are you distributing red ice?”   
  
Ralph’s whispers grew louder, albeit disregarded by the other inhabitants of the room.   
  
“Array Nine, Array Nine.”   
  
Chloe glanced up from her hands and back to the detective, remorse coloring her expression.   
  
“For you.”   
  
“For me?!” Gavin jumped to his feet with clenched fists; knees nearly giving out had a large palm not pressed to the small of his back and steadied him. “You better go into some fucking detail before I scrap you mys--”   
  
“Subcomponent #T311. Optimal for the preservation of biocomponents #1495 and #1497,” Ralph groaned, pressing his face into his hands. Three pairs of eyes turned to glance at the broken android, rocking back and forth in his seat. “Replacement is required should subcomponent #1538’s close circuit become damaged. Regular service is necessary.”   
  
Gavin was quiet as he watched Ralph continue to babble on, lips pressing together as he ignored the glance of cool eyes from over his shoulder.   
  
“...Breadcrumbs,” Chloe murmured, turning back to the pair of detectives.    
_  
_ _Oh._   
  
A hand landed on Gavin’s shoulder as RK900 stepped closer, staring down at the human man over the bridge of his nose. While the detective was proud in knowing he was one of the few who could read RK900’s guarded expressions, in this instance, he wasn’t sure if the android was more suspicious or worried.    
  
“Gavin--”   
  
“Don’t worry abou--”   
  
Gavin was forced back a few steps as his space was crowded by the larger android, unconsciously reaching for his gun as panic coursed through his veins. Shit, where was it?   
  
The irony of their reversed situation was not lost to Gavin as hands curled into his collar and yanked him close; anger sparkling in RK900’s pretty eyes.   
  
“You will not lie to me, Detective Reed,” The android hissed coldly, LED flickering between nervous yellow and furious red. “Too much has occurred in the past few days for my continued acceptance of your bullshit. The body, the red ice, the--”   
  
RK900’s voice box crackled with static as he stared down at Gavin, LED slowly circling yellow as he stared down at the detective. Gavin swallowed a lump in his throat, reaching up to wrap his fingers around the android’s shaking fists.   
  
“Nines--”   
  
“Are you an android?”   
  
Gavin frowned, guilt dropping like a stone in his stomach as he found RK900’s expression unreadable.    
  
“No.”   
  
“But--”   
  
“You might as well tell him everything,” Chloe said from her perch on the armchair, smiling sadly at the flicker of Gavin’s eyes. “More bodies are likely to show up.”   
  
RK900 released Gavin, stepping backward without withdrawing his intense stare.    
  
Gavin rubbed his neck. “...Elijah?”   
  
The woman shook her head, glancing to RK900 as he pressed a hand to his temple and closed his eyes. 

“No. Elijah is… Elijah wouldn’t do something like this. He may be vain and his priorities immoral at times but--” 

She was interrupted when RK900 spoke up, LED spinning red as he glanced to the short human. 

  
“Detective. Another body has been reported.”   
  
Gavin swallowed, glancing between the two androids as a cold sweat returned to his brow.    
  
“Then who, Chloe?”   
  
A sorrowful smile pulled prettily against her lips.

  
  
  
“My sisters.”   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked the chapter or have any questions, please consider dropping a comment below! 
> 
> You can interact with me at the following
> 
> Tumblr: pencewrites.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: twitter.com/penxes
> 
> Thank you for your continued support! I don't think I would have ever gotten this far without your lovely response <3


	14. Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay and the shorter chapter. I've had a lot of stuff going on in my life lately and I wanted to take a step back to fully understand the direction I want this story to go in. I think I've fleshed out a pretty go way to get to the conclusion so here we go. 
> 
> If my plans are successful, we've got 7 more chapters to go.

 

 

To say that the drive wasn’t entirely awkward and stifling was the lie of the century.

 

Sinking into the passenger seat, Gavin let a soft groan pass over his lips as he continued to battle the raging headache that was threatening to split his skull in half. He’s made the mistake of checking himself out in the passenger visor mirror--and lord did he look as shitty as he felt.

Color was struggling to return to his complexion, settling in splotchy patches across his cheek and nose. The everpresent dark circles beneath his eyes were more profound than ever (although, admittedly, he hadn’t gotten much sleep in the past 72 hours that didn't involve being knocked on his ass by a gardener bot).

And his eyes...

The veins had burst in the corner of one of his eyes, flooding the white with an angry crimson. He was surprised Nines hadn’t pressured him into seeking a medical professional yet; merely offering him a pair of sunglasses when they had entered despite the setting sun. Usually, Gavin might have questioned the android’s silenced curiosity, but given the events a few hours prior, it was unsurprising.

Chancing a short glance to the android in the driver’s seat, Nines sat rigid as he stared ahead at the road, hands perfectly situated on the steering wheel. To anyone else, the calm blue of his LED might have given the impression of concentration.

But to Gavin? He knew Nines well enough to understand a freak out when he saw it.

Chloe ended up being the knife to slice through the awkward silence in the car. Sitting in the back seat, her abrupt voice was the clap of thunder above the rolling grind of the wheels on wet pavement.

“I’ve always hated silence,” The woman spoke aloud, hands folded politely in her lap as she sat in the middle of the backseat. “It made me paranoid, especially around humans. It’s not like you can interface to bridge the gap.”

Gavin sunk lower in his seat, gritting his teeth.

 

  
_< Gavin?>_  
_< Nines.>_

 

  
The detective didn’t miss the slight turn of his androids head, likely reminded of the same thing. Fuck. He didn’t want to explain this shit just yet...

“It was easier when it was my sisters and Elijah in my life,” The android continued, fingers idly playing with the fabric of her coat. She stared ahead through the windshield as they drove, likely unseeing as she lost herself to her thoughts. “Life was mindless, but there was never silence. If Elijah was stuck in his lab, my sisters were always a constant buzz in my mind. Even if no words or instructions were being exchanged, you were always connected. I miss that.”

Gavin bristled softly at the mention of his brother, eyes flickering behind his sunglasses to the flicker of red at Nines’ temple.

“Elijah Kamski,” The android murmured, fingers tightening ever so slightly on the wheel. “He is at the center of this case--however I’ve yet to parse ho--”

“He’s my brother,” Gavin interrupted, deciding that it would probably be better rip the band-aid off quickly rather than let the android figure it out on his own.

They came to an uncomfortably abrupt stop at the next red light; cool blue turning to stare fully at the detective attempting to bury himself in his coat. And if Gavin prided himself in reading the android better than anyone else--

Nines was **pissed** \--or as close to pissed as a non-deviant could be.

“And you neglected to share this information?”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“That is an incredibly important piece of informa--”

“We fell out a fucking long time ago, Nines. And he’s not involved in thi--”

“You can’t rule out a potential suspect off of a gut feeling, Detect--”

“What do you know about fucking gut feelings, Tin Ca--”

Chloe’s voice broke their argument in the same moment that the streetlight turned green, ushering them onward in their trek across the city.

“It was infuriating at times, though,” The RT600 mused aloud, crossing a leg over the other as she tried to get comfortable in Gavin’s tiny back seat. The sun had set behind the surrounding buildings, casting dark shadows into the car and deeming Gavin sunglasses entirely unnecessary. “The constant buzzing of my sisters, I mean. I would often go into stasis far more frequently than necessary if only to have blissful silence beyond the ticking of my biocomponents.”

Ripping off the shades, Gavin grumbled inaudibly to himself as he rubbed his knuckles against his eyes.

“The fuck you going on about?” He grumbled, glancing up into the rearview mirror to meet Chloe’s gentle smile.

“They are here.”

Gavin blinked. Chloe’s smile saddened.

“I can hear them. My sisters.”

 

\------

 

The city was cast in shadows by the time they pulled up on the crime scene; red and blue lights painting the buildings in a wash of foreboding color. Police and emergency vehicles lined what was usually a sleepy, residential street--with most of the activity centering on a singular alley between a pair of rowhouses.

Pulling into the growing line of vehicles, RK900 killed the engine and sat motionless for the briefest of moments, LED flashing a slow, pulsing yellow.

“Connor isn’t here.”

“Probably off chasing Anderson through every bar in the ci--”

“He put in a leave of absence,” Nines interrupted, brow furrowing slightly. “As did Lieutenant Anderson.”

Words akin to ‘fucking typical’ grunted over the detective’s split lip as he moved to undo his seatbelt, not fond of wasting time when the body was decomposing by the second. The last fucker they’d had the misfortune of dealing with had been laying there for god knows how long.

If he was lucky, they’d have something fresher to work wi--

A strong hand seized his arm as he moved to crack open the door.

“What the fuck?”

Glancing back to his partner, the tiniest, insidious tendril of dread coiled through Gavin’s gut as he took in the flashing red of Nines’ LED. The normally impassive, icy blue of the android’s eyes looked almost startled as he stared at the detective--through the detective--likely interfacing with one of the many law enforcement androids lingering on the scene.

“... Stay in the car, Detective.”

“Like hell I will!” The human snarled, moving to snatch his arm away from the impossible vice. “What the fuck has gotten into--”

“Please Gavin.”

That plea--that monotone, robotic, desperate, whispered plea--is what gave Gavin pause. Sinking back into the seat, the detective released the door handle to meet the android’s gaze. The surprise was gone from the sparkle of Nines eye, replaced with a somber pity that struck terror through the human man.

“Nines… What is it?”

The android’s LED flashed red again, glancing away from Gavin’s face to the hold he had on the man’s arm. “I…”

“.... Who is it?”

When Nines didn’t--couldn’t--form words, Gavin did what he always did in the face of fear. He got pissed the fuck off. Lurching forward, the detective twisted his free hand in the fabric of the android’s jacket and jostled him forward in the short space already shared between them.

**“Who is it, Nines!?”**

“I’m….I’m sorr--”

The android was cut off at the sound of the back door opening. Tearing his gaze away from the android, Gavin watched in disbelief as Chloe stepped out of the back seat and into the bustling street. It was easy enough to disregard RK900’s request as he yanked his arm away and climbed out of the vehicle in pursuit of the wandering woman.

Of course, his partner was always on his heel.

As Chloe passed through the first ring of LED Police tape lining the alley, she was forced to a halt by Gavin’s grip on her arm. The pain in his head ached with a renewed force from the spotlights being set up around the area and the continual flash of blue, red, blue, red.

“You can’t just walk into a crime scene, Chloe!” Gavin half shouted over the noise of activity around them. He paid little mind to RK900 as he brushed past them, heading deeper into the swarming group of officers securing the scene.

LED flashing red, red, red.

“I can hear her,” Chloe murmured, so faintly that Gavin might have imagined it. “She was here. She is here.”

“Who?”

His question remained unanswered as the woman stared ahead, eyes widening as he back went rigid--before just as quickly relaxing with casual ease. Turning to the detective, Chloe smiled warmly and reached up to cup his cheeks, tracing her thumb across the edge of his scar.

The noise around them quieted down as the woman stepped forward and coiled her arms around him into a crushing hug.

“Chloe?”

Lips brushed the lobe of his ear as the android spoke--remorse and grief dripping heavily from the softest of whispers. “I hope one day you understand the choices I’ve made, Gavin. Everything I’ve done or will ever do is for you.”

“What the fuck are you talking abo--”

Gavin saw white as he suddenly found himself tripped to the ground; the soft click of heels racing away from the scene. The sudden jostle and slam onto his ass ignited every aching pain raging through his muscles. All he could taste was copper, having likely bitten his tongue at the sudden tip to the ground.

With a furious grunt, the detective climbed to his feet and grabbed his back, trying will away the sharp pain centering at his tailbone.

Wait, shit. His gun was gone.

Spinning on his heel, Gavin glanced around the scene and felt his stomach drop as Chloe had all but vanished in the crowd of activity in the area.

A soft, muffled ‘fuck’ passed over his lips as he reached up to gnaw at his thumbnail--only to jump out of his skin as a hand settled on his shoulder.

“Gavin.”

Yanking his shoulder away, the detective was prepared to lay into Nines but paused upon realizing who it was. Chris Miller looked like shit---exhaustion drawing forth lines in his otherwise youthful face and color draining rapidly from his cheeks.  
“What the fuck is going on Chris?”

“It’s bad… You shouldn’t-- I didn’t know--”

The officer’s voice hitched as he spoke; nose scrunching as he released the detective’s shoulder to rub at his eyes. Gavin swallowed thickly as Chris’s fingers spread out across his face to hide the tears he was desperately willing away.

Steeling his resolve, the detective knocked past the officer and through the police tape--spitting fury and cold terror willing every step forward into the busy center of the commotion. He could hear Chris calling after him but couldn’t make out distinct words with the surge of blood pounding in his ears.

RK900’s large, imposing frame stood before him--back turned away from the approaching detective as he stood like a statue at the entrance to the scene. Blood splatter painted the walls and floor of the alley, wet and shiny beneath the lights set up around the area.

Only as Gavin came to a halt did the android turn and frown down at the hard pull of the detective’s face. Gazes were held in silent, determined battle--before RK900 conceded with a soft sigh.

He stepped aside.

And Gavin turned away with stumbling steps as he struggled to hold in the contents of his empty stomach.

No.

No this wasn’t fucking happening.

Falling to his knees, the detective heaved dryly as his finger scrambled desperately against the cold concrete of the alley floor.

No not this.

Please god. Not this.

The soft clicking of dress shoes approached before a large hand pressed to his shoulder, rubbing sorrowful, reassuring circled into his shoulders as the human continued to heave.

“I wish you’d have stayed in the car, Gavin.”

Turning to glance back at the android, teeth clenched and eyes burning, the detective was forced to look back at the broken body in the center of the alley.

He turned away from the body of Tina Chen as his shoulders shook violently, nails scraping against the ground.

 

“I’m so sorry, Gavin.”

 

"I'm sorry."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked what you read, please consider dropping a kudos and/or a comment below! I really encourages me to keep going!
> 
> You can find me at the following--
> 
> Tumblr: pencewrites.tumblr.com
> 
> Twitter: twitter.com/penxes
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	15. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. This is a long one but arguably one of the more important ones in pushing the plot forward.
> 
> Thank you for the lovely responses I've received on this fic. It's my fuckin' brain child and I will see it through to the end. Wherever that lies.

 

 

 

The cold glass of the window was relieving against the burn of his forehead; a reassuring shiver rattling down his spine. Warmth beat in sharp contrast against his cheeks as the sun peeked from behind winter clouds, reflecting off the melting snow that had overtaken the garden below. The white, sickly pallor of his cheeks drank the beams in greedily, desperate after yet another familiar period stuck in bed.  
  
Abrasive silence blanketed the mansion; discomforting after weeks of beeping machines, bustling nurses, and the ghostly whisper of voices within the rollercoaster of drug-induced battles for consciousness.  
  
They were familiar, however, after these many years of surgeries and procedures. So too were the sharp pains that sat with him during recovery—in this instance an ugly set of stitches climbing the back of his neck and curling behind his ear. The ache extended deeper than any superficial flesh wound, pounding vividly into the back of his skull and radiated through the muscles of his back. Elijah had ensured that the pain would cease as his body grew accustomed to the implant; claimed that all previous issues from the components his brother had already tucked into his body would calm once synced.  
  
He looked forward to the constant, painful beat in his chest to disappear.  
  
Clung to the hope of being normal.

Looked forward to seeing Richard’s stupid, sun-kissed face.  
  
Raising a hand from his knee, Gavin tapped against the glass of the window as his attention returned to a small web in the corner of the outdoor shutter. A low, rhythmic beat pinged with every tap of his finger, failing to startle the spider that sat curled in the shadows against the morning light.

 

_Tap, tap, tap. Pause. Tap, tap, tap._

 

  
“R-A-9. R-A-9,” The boy murmured, pushing his forehead harder against the glass as he tried to remember the term that Elijah had been throwing around in recent weeks. “R-A-9. Ar-ray--”

“Gavin.”

The boy groaned as he turned his head enough to glance towards the doorway, unwilling to relinquish the loving chill against his sweaty brow. The fresh stitches crawling up his neck pulled at the awkward shift in positions, protesting duly with a sharp sting that crinkled the corner of his eye.

Amanda leaned calmly against the doorframe, arms folded politely in front of one of her many elegant gowns. The friendly smile on her face appeared fake and strained, likely a courtesy to an ailing child. It disappeared as quickly as the rap of her knuckles against the doorframe as her eyes flicker over the boy.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” The professor half-asked, half chided as she stepped into the room, heels silenced by the egg-shell carpet covering the bedroom.

“I’m tired of being in bed, Profess--Amanda,” Gavin grumbled, turning his attention back to the slumbering spider in the shadows of his windowsill. Lids falling shut, the boy turned his face once more towards the morning sunlight and drank in the comforting heat.

A hand pressing gently to his shoulder brought his attention back to the professor.

“Well, it’s in my favor that you’re up,” Amanda said with a small shrug, small smile as she reached up to take his chin into her hand. The boy was silent as her other hand joined the act of pressing gently into the flex of his jaw, neck, skull.

“The swelling has gone down, that’s very good. Very, very good,” The woman murmured quietly to herself as she looked over his face with a clinical flicker of her eyes, turning his chin gently. Gavin let out a soft sigh and allowed his lids to fall shut under her light touch, used to be prodded like a guinea pig after so many years.

Speaking of…

“Come. Elijah would like to do the checkup in his lab today,” Amanda murmured, pressing a kiss to his clammy cheek before stepping back.

Gavin swallowed thickly as his nerves lit on fire, dancing across his arms through aching muscle and withering fatigue. Reaching up, the boy rubbed at his face as he tried to battle away from the emotion building with every painful beat in his chest; hiding behind his palm as he spoke.

“Can’t we do it later?” He asked gently, pleading, as he pressed his fingertips into the soft flesh around his eyes. “I don’t… I can’t do it again…”

Amanda was silent from where she stood over him; a frown revealed as he peaked through his fingers up at the woman. Her hands had clasped once more in front of her, playing idly with her ring as she visibly struggled for the right thing to say.

“...It will get better over time, Gavin,” She murmured apologetically, brows knitting. “Easier. Inaction will only make the pain worse. It could ki--”

“Y’know,” Gavin interrupted, dropping his hand from his face and to his lap with an audible plop. “That’s what everyone keeps saying. That I’ll die, that I’m dying. Pushing each procedure as if it’s some life-saving fucking--”

“Gavin, pleas--”

“--cure! Maybe the first few surgeries were important but this?”

He motioned upward to the painful stitch trailing his neck.

“This is fucking excess. Elijah can push the idea that he will help every fucking component he’s plugged into me, but this won’t ever end, will it? I’m never gonna escape this. There is gonna be one surgery after another until I’m nothing, right?”

Amanda frowned as the boy’s shoulders began to quake, hot tears gathering at the corner of his eyes as he ground his teeth together. Sniffling, Gavin reached up and wiped them away with the powerful swipes of his palm.

“I miss Chloe,” He whispered at a pathetic attempt to mask a breathy sob, leaning forward despite the pain in his shoulders to hang his head. “Why didn’t she say goodbye?”

The cushion of the window’s seat dipped as Amanda took place at his side; the soft fabric of her gown brushing against his bare toes. A hesitant arm curled around his shoulders as he was directed gently into her side. Struggle as he might, the gesture was enough to unleash the tears he had been struggling to hold back--choked, gasping sobs shaking his shoulders.

Turning, the boy pressed his face into her shoulder as she pulled him closer, rubbing small circles into his shoulder. “I can’t say I know the details of why Chloe chose to quit so I cannot offer you small comforts in that regard,” The woman spoke softly, pressing her cheek to the back of his skull.

“What I can say is that after recovery from this surgery, you should not require further for quite some time. The RA9 should sync every component already installed with your body while translating the electric signals coming from your brain to code.

“But it takes training for your brain to adapt to the array and that means checkups, I’m afraid. You’ve already made so much progress, my boy. Once you’ve recovered and your body has accepted the array, you’ll be back to your normal life in a jiffy”

The woman chuckled over the small sniffle at her shoulder. “Back to your normal life and your boyfriend.”

A louder laugh was pulled from the woman’s lips as the boy jerked awkwardly away from her, eyes red-rimmed and wide.

“H-he’s not--”

“That boy has snuck onto the property on multiple occasions during your recovery. Caught him snooping in the gardens and we had a lovely chat,” Amanda smirked with an amused twinkle to her eye. “I can see why you like him. He was quite passionate in the blasphemy he cast towards your family, certain you were in danger.”

Gavin blushed, reaching up to hide his face as he wiped the tears from his cheeks. Soft sobs continued to rake occasionally through his shoulders, despite the burning red of his ears.

“Don’t tell them.”

“Hm?” Amanda blinked, amusement wavering at the quiet request.

“Don’t tell them about Richard. My parents. Elijah.”

The woman’s lips dipped into a frowned as she reached up, taking his hands gently into her own as she pulled them away from her face.

“Your secret is safe with me,” She assured him with a soft smile. Gavin’s shoulders relaxed as her thumbs traced gently over his knuckles. “It isn’t their business.”

The boy nodded, forcing a small uptick to his lips that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Thank you.”

“Just remember to use protectio--”

“Let's not keep ‘Lijah waiting in the labs!”

Gavin was quick to bolt to his feet after his shout, wavering as nausea followed a second later. The woman chuckled as she pressed a hand to his lower back to steady him, climbing to her own a breath of a moment later.

 

“Of course, Gavin.”

 

\-----

 

“The coroner’s report is in, Detective.”

 

It came as no surprise to Nines to receive little more than a grunt of affirmation from the bundle on the couch. As many questions as he had from the whirlwind of events that had happened in the few days preceding their visit to St. Judes--the discovery of Officer Chen’s body had brewed a storm that stilled his tongue.

Regardless, the android was doubtful he’d get an honest answer out of his human, even from the simple ‘how are you?’

The morose detective currently cocooned on the couch heavily contrasted that of the spitting, snarling, furious man he’d physically dragged from the crime scene days before.

A software instability was quickly snuffed as he recalled the crack of Gavin’s voice as he cursed the android with every desperate slam against his shoulder.

 

. . .

 

“Let me go you plastic fucker!”

 

Gavin’s knuckles were white from where he tore at the hand gripping his waist; feet stumbling as he was unwillingly forced to walk. The LED at Nines temple shone red against the wet stone of the alley’s wall, flickering up and down with every tug of the detective held securely at his side.

“She needs me!” The smaller man snarled, giving up on breaking the android’s fingers to instead slam his fist into the strong chassis of his chest. “She needs me, Nines! I can find who--”

“Captain Fowler has requested your removal from the crime scene. Detective Collins will tak--”

The other officers mingling around the area averted their eyes as Gavin gave a violent jerk out of Nines’ grasp, stumbling over his own feet as he righted himself mid-turn. The android had been mid-preconstruction in re-wrangling the panicked detective that his LED a violent flicker as his shoulder blades met hard brick.

Gavin's hands shook within the hold he had on Nines’ collar, crowding so intimately into his space that Nines committed to memory every hot breath that ghosted across his jaw.

 

**< Software Instability^>**

 

“It was one of them, Nines! Chloe could feel her, she was near!” Gavin hissed angrily, giving the android a hard jostle into the cold stone of the wall. “I’m not fucking leaving when the suspect could be so fucking cl--”

A guttural, wet wheeze squeezed through the man’s gritted teeth as his body went rigid, hands untangling from the fabric of the androids jacket to clutch at his own chest. What little color remained in his cheeks drained away as a new breed of panic flickered into his expression; brows knitted with pain.

“Gavin?”

It was the android’s turn to tense as Gavin pushed him into the wall once more--the press of a forehead to his collar as the detective leaned bodily into the android’s chest. It was a lovely, if not worrisome change of pace to the white-knuckled grip only moments before.

More instability messages were batted away as Gavin’s short, heated breathe kissed along the exposed skin at Nines’ collar. His words were soft as a whisper but clear enough for the android’s heightened hearing to catch.

“I’m in a fucking nightmare,” Gavin ranted gently, deliriously, as his brow dug sharply into Nines’ collarbone. There came no protest as the android’s arm curled supportively around his back, knees shaking. “This isn’t gonna fucking end, oh god. Tina. Chloe. Fuck, I’m so sorry Richard.”

_“My name is Richard.”_

**< Software Instability^>**  
**< Software Instability^>**  
**< Software Instability^>**

Nines’ shoulders tensed as red grid lines began to materialize in his peripheral; a large, spiderwebbed crack stationed tantalizingly at its center. They disappeared just as quickly as Gavin’s weight gave out under his knees, remaining upright only by the strong arm curled around him.

“Let’s get you home, Gavin,” The android murmured against the curve of his ear as he pulled the man up, choosing to offer small kindness in ignoring the detective’s muted sobs. Nines shivered as that name--”I’m sorry Richard”--was mumbled once more against his neck. It took a few short moments for Gavin to find his footing before allowing himself to be led away from the crime scene.

While impossible to understand fear as a non-deviant, the choking sobs that tore from the detective upon reaching the quiet of their car was…

Haunting.

\-----

The LED at Nines’ temple flashed a momentary red as Gavin went quiet once more, shifting deeper into the pile of blankets taking over the couch. Apollo lounged on the arm closest to the detectives head, tail wisping back and forth lazily as he watched the troubled android with a curious stare.

“Gavin,” Nines spoke again, steps muted against the carpet of the living room as he crossed to the back of the couch. Staring down at the mess of blankets, the only sign that someone existed beneath the pile of the disheveled hair that poked from the top and the occasional shift.

While the Detective hadn’t officially been put on leave, there had been no word from the Captain regarding the man’s absence from the investigation. Everyone in the precinct seemed affected by the events a few days prior, especially those closest to the late Tina Chen.

“Will you be accompanying me to the morgue, Detective? It might do you well to get some--”

“Fuck off, Nines,” Gavin grumbled, voice muffled within his cocoon. “Just go.”

The android hesitated, a strange reluctance to refuse locking his knees as his mission glittered in the corner of his eyes.

 

**[Priority: Protect Gavin Reed]**

 

“I really think--”

The blankets fell away as Gavin sat up, hair mussed to one side of his head from laying too long in a single position. The ever-present dark circles beneath his eyes stood out more than ever against the angry flush of his cheeks.

“That was a fucking order, not a suggestion,” He hissed, glaring furiously up at the frozen android. “So get moving, tin can.”

 

**[Order: Collect Coroner’s Report]**

**< Software Instability^>**

 

RK900’s LED flashed red as he took a mechanical step back from the couch, struggling to tear his gaze away from Gavin and instead to the door. However, despite the rising internal temperatures within his biocomponents and a constant stream of software instabilities, orders were orders.

“Very well. I will head back as soon as I retri--”

“No. Just go to the office and get some work done,” Gavin muttered, sinking back into the couch as his hand sought out Apollo, fingers stroking through the cat’s fur. “Send the report to my tablet once you get it. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

 

**< Software Instability^>**

 

The android could do little more than nod, struggling to find the appropriate response to Gavin’s statement. Spinning on his heel, Nines made for the door as he pulled up his contact list mid-stride.

 

 

 

 

> Sent _< 10:34:23:04>_ [from] **RK900 #313 248 317 - 87** || Connor. Please contact me as soon as possible. I have been experiencing excessive instabilities and would like to perform a full system scan with your assistance.

 

It came as little surprise when the message bounced back as ‘undeliverable’. Why Connor would choose now, of all times, to turn off his communicator was questionable. Leaving without warning, despite Hank’s intention of taking a vacation, was also worrisome.

He didn’t have the processing power, or desire, to dwell on idol curiosities.

Gavin’s apartment was oppressively quiet as he made it to the door; thick, deadened silence pushing him out despite the dragging heels of his data.

He would return first thing in the morning--even if that meant showing up at 12:01 AM on the dot.

 

Orders were orders, after all.

 

\-----

 

Apollo was a great cat--arguably, and in Gavin Reed’s personal opinion, the best cat. Sure, he was a little on the larger side, but he was polite enough to just sit quietly and allow the detective to press his nose into the feline’s chubby, fuzzy belly.

Closing his eyes, Gavin let out a breath as he felt Apollo’s soft, rumbling purrs vibrate against his forehead--accepting compensation in the form of soft scritches beneath his jaw.

Fatigue weighed heavily on his back after nearly a week of sleepless nights--starting with Meister and ending with Chen.

While the investigation was ongoing, the detective had found strong reluctance in checking for any progress or advancements in the case. It helped that Ben Collins, who had taken over as lead detective, was kind in keeping Gavin out of the loop aside from the information shared on the public servers of the DPD database.

He just…

He wasn’t ready to look at her like that again, regardless of how comfortable he’d become at looking at even the most gruesome crime scene photo.

Fuck, man. He was only in stage two ‘denial’--battling the feeling that he could receive a text at any time from the woman berating him for slacking off at home. His phone had long since died after reading and re-reading the final messages he’d received from Tina on…. That day.

They were fitting, parting words given their odd friendship.

 

 

 

> Received _< 09:22:15:30>_ [from] **That Fucking Bitch From Work** || Are you sick? Where are you?
> 
> Received _< 09:30:20:15>_ [from] **That Fucking Bitch From Work** || No way Gavin Reed ruined his perfect attendance. I refuse to believe it.
> 
> Received _< 09:43:40:06>_ [from] **That Fucking Bitch From Work** || Look, I’m sure robo-cock is better than its fleshy counterpart, but you can’t just call in sick because you’re a little sore.
> 
> Received _< 09:45:22:12>_ [from] **That Fucking Bitch From Work** || Meet me at Jimmy’s after I get off so you can give me the deets of how you got off. :)c You know you love me enough to spill your filthy little secrets.
> 
>  

A wet, amused laugh bubbled past the detective’s lips, turning his nose further in Apollo’s fur as he savored the sweet, warm fondness that existed as a lovely contrast to the weighted grief. It was hard to wrap his mind around the idea of never having coffee with the woman again or passing a cigarette between each other.

He was quick to banish the thought of reaching out to Tina’s wife, her widow, to offer his condolences. She’d never liked him very much to begin with, assuming him a terrible influence on the officer.

And given her death…

Perhaps she was right.

The smile was quick in falling from his lips as his teeth gritted together, stubbornly struggling to keep himself from crying as his nose grew hot. Apollo watched as the detective sat up once more, fingers scrubbing over his face in an attempt to save himself from submerging back into the hollow, grey abyss he’d been floating in for the past few days.

Leaning forward, Gavin took up his tablet and opened up the investigation files of Meister’s body, refusing to look at the unopened record ‘Chen, Tina’ sitting at the top his email.

There was odd solace found in re-reading investigation notes the had long been seared to memory. Details that didn’t stand out during the original few skims often enjoyed rearing their heads, pushing stalled investigations back into frenzied advancement.

Gavin Reed didn’t believe in miracles and was not riding on the possibility of solving the case while half-dressed on his couch. He already knew who the murderer was--the question he was looking for was “Why?”.

Why was his body relocated so long after his murder?  
Was he the first of the rogue Chloe’s kills? Why was he so further mutilated than...?  
Why did he have eight times the lethal dose of Red Ice floating in his--

  
_“Red ice. Its compounds can be found within the man’s bloodstream in copious amounts,” The android explained, rising to his feet to move closer to the throat of the victim. “However, this John Doe does not appear to have been a regular smoker. Generally, you find visual sores along the esophagus and windpipe of habitual users.”_

  
_Gavin’s brows furrowed, pen pausing from the notes he had been scribbling down._  
_“But is the Red Ice the cause of death? Did this guy OD?”_

  
_“Inconclusive.”_

 

It didn't make sense... Unless...

  
“Breadcrumbs,” Gavin whispered, remembering what the disguised Chloe had said when asked about the red ice she was distributing.

 

_“That was YOU?!” He snarled, pinching one of his eyes closed as his furious yelling rattled around his skull. “Why the fuck are you distributing red ice?”_

_Chloe glanced up from her hands and back to the detective, remorse coloring her expression._

_“For you.”_

 

It didn’t make sense. What benefit would he have from potent-as-fuck red ice entering an already sick city? He wasn’t a user, so it wasn’t like he actively sought the drug out. The detective gnawed his lip as he read further through Meister’s toxicology report, reaching up to itch at the old, pale scar behind his ear.

His fingers paused mid-itch.

He did seek it out, didn’t he?

Fuck, how many junkies has he dragged back to the precinct, dead and alive, in the decades he’s worked for the DPD?

“Breadcrumbs…”

Closing Meister’s file, Gavin’s fingers flew across the screen as he opened up toxicology report after toxicology report, looking for overdoses autopsied within the last year. Haunted photos of the sleeping dead littered every file he opened--quickly banished with the hit of the close button as he searched singularly for the chemical composition of the red ice tested in their blood.

No match. No match. A needle in a haystack.

It was well after his fifteenth file that Gavin froze, eyes widening as he read through the string of red ice composition that had produced the death of the latest ‘Jane Doe’ he was skimming. According to the report, her death had been labeled a suicide after her body had been found lying across a bench outside of a 24-hour convenience store.

It was a match.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Gavin navigated through the file until he located the autopsy photos he had previously been dismissing. His hand shook as he opened the folder and found a picture that was taken shoulders up, allowing for full view of the dead woman’s face.

A face that he recognized.

“....Miss Holland?”

Disbelief ran his blood cold as he stared into the blue-lipped face of a woman he hadn’t seen in almost twenty years. While age had done much to claim the woman, the relaxed expression that often accompanied death smoothed her features to that of the tutor he’d had so long ago in preparation for smooth transition into a public high school.

His parents had been expectedly uncaring of his desire to physically go to a school with a student boy, gym class, cliches---but Elijah….he’d freaked out. Was terrified that his fuckin’ science experiment might break while reading goddamn Shakespeare in English Lit.

It was one of the first times that Gavin had actually put his foot down on an issue--and it helped that Miss Holland, still young-herself at the time, had met his determination head-on. Hours and hours she’s worked with him in catching up to the curriculum expected of a student his age by the state.

While Gavin was no child genius like his brother, he was by no means an idiot and gobbled every lesson she’d tossed in front of him.

A soft, dazed smile grew on the detective’s face as he remembered her tut of disbelief when he begged her to skip lesson for a day, head deep in a pail as his stomach rolled.

 

_“You’re not going to just lay there and suffer a pity party. Buck up, it’s time for pre-calculus.”_

 

The smile dropped with the stone in his stomach, plummeting until he felt the final slam into his soft guts. Swallowing thickly, Gavin saved the file to his desktop and resumed his frantic swiping through the autopsies.

Another match. Brian Bradley. Age 34. Death concluded as suicide and found in the back alleys of the nightclub district. They went to the same high school and would often join Gavin and Richard in sneaking beers at the docks.

Kit Maron. Age 64. Suicide. Body found by a 4th grader walking to school, slumped against a swing set in a neighborhood park. One of Gavin’s high school counselors who suggested a career in law enforcement.

Amber Jones. Age 82. His first, albeit short-lived employer. Owned a small flower shop in town.

Peter Lemski. A school friend he’d lost contact with years ago.

Bethany Reynolds. Daisuke Tsuneda. Jane Yu. John McDoyle.

 

One after the other.

 

Familiar face after familiar face stared back at him as he pushed the autopsy photos, blue lips and taut yellowed faces painting over the old memories he held of each person. When no further matches began to appear, Gavin gnawed his lip once more and stared down at the list he’d managed to find.

Sweat beaded his brow. He’d come up with 11 additional names below Meisters--the final pieces in creating the whole of the missing people reported by the local precinct of his home town.

Copper coated his tongue as he took too sharp a bit, breaking the scabbing of his healing split lip. With a soft hiss, Gavin was torn from his shock and brought his fingertip up to press as the bleeding wound.

Drawing his hand away, the detective stared at the bright, fresh blood spreading thinly through the soft valleys of his fingerprints and froze. Turning his fingers gently under the sunlight breaking through his half-drawn curtain, old horror turned his stomach.

It wasn’t just red ice.

 

_“Subcomponent #T311. Optimal for the preservation of biocomponents #1495 and #1497,” Ralph groaned, pressing his face into his hands. Three pairs of eyes turned to glance at the broken android, rocking back and forth in his seat. “Replacement is required should subcomponent #1538’s close circuit become damaged. Regular service is necessary.”_

 

“....Fuck.”

It was the pure, unaltered original.

Sucking in a breath through his nose as he readied himself, Gavin jumped quickly from the couch and bolted for his room, startling Apollo who had taken to snoozing against his thigh. Popping his phone on the charger, Gavin took the time to grab a duffle bag and began to shove in clothing with little concern for style or color.

His phone gave a buzz against the wood of his nightstand as he was grabbing a few toiletries from the bathroom. Dropping them into the bag, the detective scooped up the device and went quickly to his contacts.

Thumb pausing over ‘Metal Asshole #2’, Gavin hesitated.

 

_Tina. Meister. Ms. Holland. Richard._

 

He couldn’t add Nines to the list.

Guilt formed a lump in his throat as he moved further down the list, finally stopping as he came across a number simply labeled ‘ _Home_.’

Closing his eyes, the detective sat on the edge of the bed as he pressed the phone to his ear. Leaning forward, Gavin rested his elbows on his knees as he dug the knuckles of his free hand into the soft flesh of his eye socket, battling a raging headache.

Soft ring after soft ring sang unassuming against his ear--before a sharp click indicated the line picking up from the other end.

Gavin sucked in a breath.

 

“.... Hey ‘Lijah.”

 

“I’m coming home.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked what you read, consider dropping a comment and/or kudos below!
> 
> You can find me at:
> 
> Tumblr - pencewrite.tumblr.com  
> Twitter - @penxes (I have a fandom/writing twitter account in the works that I will link later)


	16. Photograph

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long-ish. This is a pretty long chapter compared to the others and I'm sure there are mistakes that I'll be finding over the next few hours/days/ever.
> 
> Hope you like it!

A frozen, empty, unfeeling tundra existed in the blue eyes of the android, vacant beneath the droop of dark lashes. His head had long tipped forward toward the ground from where he was suspended within the apparatus; arms restrained and held out in such a manner that he resembled old holy relics of ancient artisans. Battle-scarred angels dripping blessed ichor across marbled flesh.

Connor frowned from where he stood beneath the immobile android, discomfort tickling every sensor as he stared up at his reflection. At the endgame Cyberlife had planned should he have succeeded in his mission those many months ago.

“We should kill him.”

Casting his eyes away from familiar freckles, the android frowned as he took in the cautious stance of the woman who had spoken. Arms crossed tightly over her chest, she only had eyes for the RK900 as she waited for even the slightest excuse to draw the gun at her hip. Her fingers twitched minutely against the sleeve of her sweater.

“Don’t be so brash, North,” Spoke a blond android at her side. Simon. An apologetic glance flickered in Connor’s direction--as if such a suggestion would be insulting to him.

Glancing back up to the android, Connor frowned as he tried to figure out the feeling that was tugging at his processors. Deviancy was a tricky beast to wrangle--often louder and far more smothering than a famished saint bernard. It wasn’t fear… He knew fear as intimately as one might know a childhood friend.

Pity? No. A troubling thought--but pitying the android hanging before him was to the equivalent of pitying a broken toaster. The RK900 was still a machine and following orders from god-knows-where.

Anger. That seemed to be it.

“It might be for the best,” Connor spoke aloud after a moment of contemplation, unblind to the soft flutter of the RK900’s lashes. He was being just as carefully observed. “Markus has been unsuccessful in forcing deviancy thus far. He’s far too dangerous to leave alive should we be unable to break through his safety protocols.”

Soft, nervous steps sounded as a shoulder brushed his own. Simon frowned as he came to a stop at Connor’s side, staring up at the android in question.

“Did Cyberlife send you?” He asked, flinching visibly as the RK900’s cold gaze turned to him.

There came no further reaction to his question.

“Of course they fucking did!” North snarled from behind the pair, dropping her hands from their tight fold as she pushed off the wall. “Who else would have vendetta enough against the deviant hunter than Cyberlife?”

The sharp press of Connor’s lips fell further as the RK900’s gaze returned to his own, lashes dipping lower.

“What is your mission, RK900?”

The android’s chin lifted at the question,

Connor blinked as the RK900’s stress levels noticeably rose. In the time since Jericho had collected the android from the ruins of Anderson’s kitchen, his stress levels had been sitting at a stagnant 50%. During the subsequent attempts at purging the hostile coding out of the unit, there had existed little more than fluctuations of a few percentage points at most—before settling back into that solid 50% as flesh regrew over chassis.

  
  
_Current Stress Levels at 59%_

The RK900 stared him down, lips firmly shut despite the apparent distress such a question brought him.  
  
“State your mission, RK900,” Connor attempted again, edge grinding his voice as he stated his words as an order.

  
  
_Current Stress Levels at 63%_

The LED at the RK900’s temple flickered yellow, betraying the turmoil occurring within the storm of his eyes. Lips fell apart to reveal the soft grind of the younger android’s teeth, tongue flattening to the roof of his mouth.

“You can’t tell me, can you?” Connor asked, unsurprised when the answer came in the form of a flicker of red in the churning yellow of the android’s LED. “Or you don’t want to tell me. Is your mission to terminate my unit and pick up where my mission failed?”

Once again, RK900 remained silent. Connor took his stagnant stress level as a firm ‘No.’

“Were you planning to infiltrate Jericho?” North asked, sidling up to join the pair standing before the restrained android. Her fingers dug angrily into the arms of her sweater.

 

_Current Stress Levels at 63%_

 

“I don’t believe he was,” Connor murmured, reaching up to brush his fingers thoughtfully along his bottom lip. RK900’s eyes tracked the idle movement as his mouth fell once more into a mute line.

Simon glanced between the two RK units before turning his attention to the suspended one.

“....Were you ordered to replace Connor?”

There came no nervous flicker within the RK900’s LED. Only an immediate shift to red.

 

_Current Stress Levels at 74%_

 

“But you were set up to fail,” Connor frowned, ignoring the rise in his own stress levels as his dark eyes traveled between the freckles on the android’s cheeks. “Certainly you could not have expected success in taking my place after brutally murdering me within my home.”

 

_Current Stress Levels at 89%_

 

  
“And with eyes like that,” North added, shuffling from foot to foot in an attempt to expel the angry energy that had been building within her system. “You wouldn’t fool anyone.”

 

 _Current Stress Levels at 91%_  
_Current Stress Levels at 94%_  
_Current Stress Levels at 97%_

 

  
“Eyesssss.”

All three went still as a static voice tore out of the RK900’s throat, teeth clicking firmly together as he shook bodily within the assembly machine’s restraints.

Connor stepped forward and placed a hand to the android’s sternum, concern coloring his face as RK900’s head fell forward after a particularly violent shudder up his spine.

“Eyes?”

Pressing his other hand to the younger android’s jaw, Connor’s proverbial stomach dropped as a fat tear rolled down the RK900 unit’s nose. His teeth were stained blue as he opened his mouth to speak, having bitten into his tongue during his confession.

“M-m-my or-de-rrrrrrrrrrs were to retr-tr-trieve y-y-o-uurrrrrr eyessssssssss.”

“From who?” Connor asked, mesmerized by every tear that passed down the android’s cheeks, painting wet streaks across faint freckles. “Who gave you this order?”

Current Stress Levels at 99%  
Current Stress Levels at 100%

Abruptly, the RK900 unit nodded forward until his forehead kissed his predecessors. Tired winter met chilly autumn in the briefest of stares before the younger android lurched up and smashed the back of his head into one of the metal arms holding him in place.

“Stop him!” Simon shouted, jumping backward as thirium scattered to the floor in droplets after a particularly massive crack.

North’s hands shook, having produced her gun mid-smash. The firearm wavered as she aimed it up at the self-destructing bot--stepping bodily in front of a terrified Simon. Moving quickly, Connor reached up and wrapped his fingers around RK900’s jaw.

“Stop! Please!” The older unit yelled, digging his feet into the stained concrete floor as he fought the other android’s superior strength. “Stop it, RK900!”

The android’s thrashing came to a standstill, cheek lulling into Connor’s hand. Warm thirium matted the back of his hair and traveled in rivets over the older android’s knuckles. His teeth were clenched together angrily as residual sobs shook his shoulders, albeit absent of even the tiniest sound.

The RK900’s lids fell shut as his predecessor ran a thumb across his cheekbone, smearing blue over ivory flesh.

When he was confident (hopeful) that there would be no further attempt to kill himself, Connor gently released his face and allowed RK900’s head to droop forward. Blue blood and clear tears dripped to the concrete below his handing toes, staining the stone dark regardless of substance.

“.... We should go get Markus,” Connor murmured, glancing back to the two startled androids. “While I doubt we’ll be able to break through the security protocol blocking deviancy, we may be able to clear his mission objectives in the meantime. An RK unit without a mission is as useful as a knife in a gunfight.”

North’s lips pursed as she glanced over Connor’s shoulder towards the still RK900, distrust a familiar expression on her face. “You guys go. If he tries anything, I promise you that I’m blowing this fucker’s head off.”

“Understandable,” Connor agreed, albeit a small worried glance back to their prisoner.  
The RK900 continued to hang there--thirium and tears twining down his cheeks as he stared at the ground. There existed no simulated breathing, no forced blinking, no shift or waver in his muscles. As still as the dead.

A puppet with severed strings.

 

“Perhaps it would be a small mercy.”

 

\------

 

The road to Port Hope was unwinding, flat, and incredibly dull--even for an android. Despite his insistence to drive and allow Hank a few hours of shut eyes, the keys had been ripped from his hand the moment they’d stepped out of their home.

“I know you haven’t been going into stasis,” Hank had accused him, a wrinkle at the corner of his eye betraying his concern. “I don’t want to go into … whatever the fuck this is with you in a tizzy. You’re an obsessive little shit and only more so with a mission in play.”

“I haven’t established a mission objective,” Connor admitted, deciding it best not to argue as he crossed to the passenger side of the car. He wanted to argue. His original design was to argue.

Cyberlife just hadn’t anticipated how effective an unimpressed stare from Hank Anderson could be.

Which led them to now. Hank nursed his second cup of gas station coffee as Connor pressed his brow to the window, staring out at the rolling fields and trees of no-mans-land.

The GPS they had set some hours ago had long gone silent, beaconing the pair towards their next turn a good forty miles away. The android remained unblinking in his daze, focusing only on the soft flutter of nerves hypothetically coiled in his gut.

Going into stasis proved fruitless in easing the worry that had been building like static since the beginning of this investigation. Nines’ investigation. The investigation he had no real part or purpose in participating.

Hank often insisted that Connor could be obsessive at times; a worry-wart to the extreme. While he was prone to deny such an accusation, in this particular instance, he feared Hank might be onto something. Aside from a bizarre string of deaths that linked in some fashion to Kamski, there wasn’t much that stood out from their regular workload.

That didn’t stop that little, festering seed of doubt from sprouting vines in his chest.

 

_Mother Hen._

 

“You look like shit, Connor.”

Letting a breathless sigh pass over his lips, the android pulled away from the window and sat back in his seat, glancing to the man beside him.

“That’s impossible, Lieutenant,” Connor muttered, staring at the side of the man’s head turned toward the road. “While the synthetic skin covering my face may have the capabilities to react to external stimuli and emotions--it is impossible for me to look like shit.”

“Jesus Christ,” Hank grumbled, chin jerking with slight shakes of his head. “I meant that you’ve been as coiled as a fuckin’ spring this entire ride, you vain piece of plastic.”

The android let out a soft hum as he turned his own gaze to the empty highway, fingers splaying across his thigh as he tried to force himself to relax. “I didn’t mean to come off as arrogant. My apolog--”

“Don’t need to apologize for feeling, Connor,” The Lieutenant muttered. “But you know you can talk to me if it helps you sort through them. Lord knows I tried that whole suppressing tactic and it bit me in the fucking ass.”

“There isn’t much to say,” Connor muttered, dark eyes flickering up to meet Hanks in the rearview mirror. “I’m still… processing.”

“Still? What happened to being Cyberlife’s most advanced prototype.”

The android let out a breathless chuckled, cheeks dimpling as he smiled. “I’m afraid I’m Cyberlife’s second-most advanced prototype.”

“Mmm right. Doesn’t show most of the time,” Hank chuckled, fingers tapping a soft rhythm against the wheel. The radio had been turned down to a dull whisper although Connor could still pick up the bass beating against his toes. “Nines may have been made to replace you, but he’s a strange kid. Can’t deviate, dry as a bone, workaholic.”

“We were both programmed to be workaholics.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well at least you have hobbies,” The Lieutenant huffed, turning his chin to raise a brow at the android. “Even before you deviated you showed interest in shit. Sumo for example--”

“Social protocols,” Connor interrupted, shooting an apologetic glance to the human in place of a voiced apology. That would have just pissed Hank off. “When I was sent by Cyberlife, it was my job to infiltrate and blend in. Even before arriving at the station, I had been given official files on everyone within the DPD to understand their history.

“Of course there had been much that I was forced to discover on my own--your love of music, Sumo, Cole. To be honest with you Hank, I didn’t even know if I liked dogs those many months ago. It was just something I said in an attempt to befriend you.”

Hank snorted, picking up his long cold coffee as he shook his head. “You telling me you don’t like dogs, Connor.”

“I love dogs.”

“So why is Nines different? Why doesn’t he lie or infiltrate or whatever?”

Connor frowned, turning away to rest his elbow along the edge of the door’s window. Plopping his chin into his hand, the android’s mouth pressed into a firm line as he thought over the situation. While RK900 would willingly contact and interface with Connor, many parts of his mind would not allow access.

“...I was the spark. He’s the fire.”

“Poetic,” Hank murmured, turning back to the road as the GPS signaled that they would soon be approaching any off-ramp. “Well, all I can say is, he seems like he was woken up too early. Unfinished or whatever.”

The android let out of a soft hum of acknowledgment as he glanced towards the flashing sign of a motel-- VACANCY blinking in neon letters above faded paint. It was a likely possibility that RK900 had been activated sooner than intended. Much of what Connor understood of the android--or what RK900 understood of himself--was merely speculation.

Until they could get their hands on official documentation or blueprints, the younger android would remain the odd, cold, non-deviant that plagued Connor’s thoughts far too often; equal measures of fondness and fear existing in his proverbial heart.

“...Thank you for coming with me, Hank.”

“Basically bullied you into allowing me to ride along,” The man chuckled, meeting Connor’s gaze once more, gentle amusement twinkling in his eye.

“I suppose,” Connor smiled, turning his mouth into his hand as his gaze returned to the passing foliage. “But I don’t believe I could have done this alone. Even now my stress levels are climbing, just knowing…. Just knowing…"

Just knowing how close he was to her.

 

To Amanda.

 

\----

 

The town of Port Hope reflected much of what Connor understood of Old Detroit. Displayed the dark underbelly of industry while ironically mark itself as home to one of History’s greatest minds.

In its day, the hand-carved sign that welcomed visitors to the sleepy town of Port Hope was likely a beautiful sight. Pastel paints had long chipped and faded from the beveled flourish of carved writing--old notches that had once held population signs festering in the old wood as it was replaced.

A metal sign--formal, unfeeling, rusted--hung beneath the latest population marker, noting this town as home and birthplace to the famous Elijah Kamski.

 **‘THERE IS ONLY ONE GOD’** was written in sloppy, vibrant red beneath the marker--spray painted in haste. Residual paint existed on the Kamski’s metal sign as well, likely an indication that someone had taken the time to scrub the metal alone.

Leaving the rest of the town marker to rot.

“God I fucking hate this place,” Hank muttered, shoulders pulled together as they drove through the vacant downtown of the small city. Shops and buildings of what had once been a bustling port town were boarded and left abandoned. “What a shit hole. Dunno why that fucker still lives here.”

“Property values?” Connor suggested unhelpfully, choosing to look away from the haunted storefronts and to the Lieutenant. “Or, likely, nostalgia.”

“Don’t look like this town feels the same fuckin’ way as Kamski,” Hank muttered, nodding to more graffiti against the windows of one of the many closed stores.

 

**‘KAMSKI IS A TUMOR TO AMERICA.’**

**‘ANDROIDS CANNOT REPLACE US.’**

**‘WILL YOU BE NEXT?’**

 

Connor frowned, stress levels fluctuating as he took in the offensive words. It was like driving back in time to the revolution when much of the graffiti left around the city reflected this bubble of a town.

What bothered him more than the anti-android rhetoric, however, was how Kamski-directed the language appeared to be.

“Will you be next?” Connor read aloud, brows furrowing as he leaned forward to commit the images into his internal storage. “The next for what?”

“To lose your job? Your livelihood?” Hank shrugged, turning on his blinker as he pulled out of the former shopping district and toward the residential district of the town. “Who knows. Bigoted assholes are bigoted assholes. They don’t need a good reason to shout their shit.”

The neighborhoods surrounding the downtown area of Port Hope were much the same in terms of condition. Empty, dark windows watched the pair as they drove through the neighborhood; For Sale signs rotting in front of many with bins filled to the brim with waterlogged advertisements.

Those few people they did see in passing kept their heads down and attention to themselves. Curtains were drawn, doors locked, windows barred.

 

_“Your destination is on the right.”_

 

Pulling to a stop, Connor pulled his knees back as the Lieutenant reached across him, removing their guns from the glove compartment. Soft reluctance bubbled in his processors as the man checked their stock, but he accepted the weapon regardless with a silent nod.

Killing the engine, the pair sat in silence as they took in the house they had driven these past few hours in search of.

A small, brown bricked ranch sat before them, bushes and foliage far overgrown while it ate into the old stone. Like many of the other houses along this block, the windows were drawn, and the door stood sturdy before them.

However, unlike the other….

Light.

“It's your lead,” Hank said, breaking the android from his trance as he clicked his gun into the holster at his hip. Worry existed in the wrinkle at his brow, gaze locked onto the android as he spoke.

“If at any point you need to pull out, just say the word, and we’re gone.”

Connor smiled as he parroted Hanks’ action, pulling back his jacket to stash his gun into the holster strapped to his ribs. “I’ll be fine, Hank.”  
The man let out a disbelieving grunt as he opened the driver’s side door and climbed out. As the Lieutenant took the time to stretch out after so long sitting in one place, Connor glanced back to the house and frowned.

Now or never.

Steeling his nerves, the android climbed from the car and out onto the crashed sidewalk traveling down the street. It was only when Hank joined him at his side that Connor was spurred into action, long strides taking him uncomfortably quickly to the door of the small brown ranch.

It was only when the sound of Hank’s steps went silent behind him that Connor raised his fist and rapped loudly against the door, movement mechanical as he struggled to relax. It was just another investigation. Just another interview.

Muffled movement sounded from within the home as its occupant approached leisurely. A woman’s voice joined the muted noise from within as locks--too many locks--began to click, click, click down the hinge of the door.

It was only when the largest deadbolt above the knob gave a loud rattle did the door open, and a woman’s head peeked out from behind the chain securing it to the frame.

Dark circles accentuated the lines beneath her dark eyes. The pale, freckled flesh of her face sagged with middle-age, and did no favors to the deep scowl that had set into her face. Dark brown hair, streaked with gray, was pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck--keeping any loose strand from concealing the widening of her eyes and fury in her expression at the sight of him.

Connor forced a smile on his face.

“Hello. My name is Conn--”

Hank let out a bark of laughter as the door was slammed with a heavy thud in the android’s face. He schooled his chuckles into soft snorts as a glare was shot back in his direction by the slighted bot.

“Knock again,” The Lieutenant suggested, motioning to the door as he favored his weight to the side and into a more relaxed stance. “Maybe playing the cop angle will help.”

Frowning, Connor turned back to the door and rapped his knuckles once more against the old wood. No sooner had he gotten to his third knock did the sound of a chain release and door open with a slam.

“Son of a bi--”  
  
Hank jumped to alert as a shotgun was pushed into the synthetic flesh of Connor’s chin by the furious woman. Drawing his gun from his holster, the Lieutenant leveled it on the uncaring woman--eyes only for the android currently raising his hands in surrender.

“Put the fucking gun down, ma'am! We’re pol--”

“I know who you fucking are,” The woman snarled, teeth gritting together as she dug the barrel of the gun deeper into the soft flesh of the android’s throat. “I saw the news coverage of the Revolution. Your fucking face is plastered all over it.”

Hank frowned as Connor’s fingers gave a soft twitch, urging him to put away his weapon.

He reluctantly complied

“The deviant hunter,” The woman hissed, nose wrinkling as her eyes searched the android’s. “Cyberlife’s puppet.”

“I don’t work for them anymore,” Connor spoke slowly, staring unblinkingly down at the woman as he schooled his expression. Preconstructions began to present themselves to the android, all with various degrees of success and assured the safety of himself, Hank, and this mystery woman.

Each-and-every scenario was dismissed.

There would be no deaths today.

The gun wasn’t loaded.

“My name is Connor. That’s Hank. We’re working on an investigation of a recent murder that occurred in Detroit,” He explained without fear, noting the frantic flickers of the woman’s pupils as she searched his face. “The victim originated from Port Hope, and we were hoping to ask you a few questions about him.”

The woman’s hands shook, giving away her nerves despite the words growled through her teeth. “And why would you think I know the dead gu--”

“Do you know Gavin Reed?”

Hank blinked as the gun dropped from Connor’s chin, shock slamming into the woman like a freight train.

“Gavin? He’s… dead?”

Connor blinked, stress levels rising as he noticed the red rim of the woman’s eyes as her gaze fell away from his face. “No! Oh no! H-he’s fine, I think! Gavin is the lead investigator on the murd--”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” The woman snarled, wiping an angry tear from her cheek as she waved the gun at him like an extension of her own arm. “You don’t go sayin’ things like that as if it’s a damn jo--”

“M’am,” Hank called, stepping closer as he realized the situation was de-escalating rapidly. “Connor’s still new to this whole ‘being alive’ thing. He didn’t mean any offense.”

The woman’s gaze traveled to Hank, anger wavering as she found herself in the awkward position of aiming a gun she had no intention of shooting at two officers. Lips pressing together, she allowed her arms to drop entirely, shotgun kissing the cold stone of the stoop.

“What’s your name?” Connor asked, offering an apologetic smile as her gaze returned to his own. He’d already run a facial recognition scan of the woman but found no criminal record that might clue him into her identity.

“Sarah Clearwater,” The woman murmured after a brief pause, swallowing thickly as she turned back to the open door of the home. She hesitated as she took a step over the threshold. “....If you’re going to be asking me questions, we might as well do it inside. It’s far too chilly to be standing out there with the door open.”

A quick glance to Hank offered Connor only a shrug before he followed after her, noting her averted gaze as she waited for Hank to follow. Clicking the door shut, she motioned for them to follow her through to a small, homey living room sat in front of a lit fireplace.

Connor frowned as he looked the room over, noting off-color patches on the walls that had likely once been littered with picture frames.

“Take off your shoes before you step on the carpet,” Sarah scolded as she turned her back to them, crossing to a gun cabinet that hung open near the fireplace. Toeing off his shoes, the android was quick to do as he was told and placed them in a rack located closest to the door.

Soccer cleats sat untouched in the back, dust gathering across their scuffed toes.

Brows furrowing, Connor reached over and pulled back the thumb of the shoe, attempting to figure out the long-faded name written in sharpie across the label. Perhaps a relic of her child’s?

Hank was already seated by the time that Connor returned, motioning for the android to sit at his side as Sarah took a seat in an old armchair before them.

“I already offered your partner tea, but he declined,” Sarah said as he sat, hands clenched on either arm of the chair as she turned her attention reluctantly back to him. “Don’t have thirium in the house so unless you can drink tea--”

“Thank you for the offer, but I must also decline,” Connor interrupted, offering her a smile that was immediately dismissed by the turn of her head. Strange.

“Do you know a man by the name of Mitchell Meister?”

Sarah blinked, glancing to Hank as he got straight to business. “Know him? Oh, I know him. That boy was a nightmare, I tell you. Bullied anyone weaker than him and beat those who tried to stand up. I’ve cleaned my fair share of the messes that boy left. Last I heard he was working at some local machinery factory, I don’t know.”

“His body was found a week ago in Detroit,” Connor said, leaning back in his seat as he tried to gauge her reaction.

None came. “I see.”

“So you only knew him when he was a kid?” Hank asked before an awkward silence could develop. “Not now?”

“Nah. He was only really a problem when my son was--” Sarah went quiet, lips pressing together as her eyes flickered over to Connor. Swallowing, she sounded breathless as she continued. “--when my son was in school.”

“Could we possibly speak with--”

“No.”

Hank put a hand to Connor’s shoulder as he opened his mouth to speak, shaking his head. Glancing to the man, the android searched the lines of the Lieutenant’s face before realization dawned on him.

“Oh, uhm…I’m sorr--”

A bell sounded from the back of the house, drawing three pairs of eyes to the entrance of the living room. With a sigh, Sarah climbed to her feet and turned her gaze back to the two officers. “Just… Make yourselves comfortable. The bathroom is down the hall if you need it.”

And with a short turn on her heel, she escaped out of the room at a desperate pace. To get away or answer to the page was questionable.

“I’m gonna go hit the head while I have a chance,” Hank said as he climbed to his feet, grunting as he stretched his back out. Patting the android on the head, he chuckled as his hand was batted away before following the woman in the direction she’d left.  
And then he was alone, sat amongst a dwindling fire in an uncomfortably doilied living room.

Getting to his feet, the android paced the length of the room and let his gaze flicker over the many facets of the area. Aside from the curious spots on the walls on which frames had once resided, there existed other small oddities that most wouldn’t have cared to notice. While he wasn’t programmed to care, he most certainly was programmed to notice.

Pencil was etched into the frame of the walkway leading into the kitchen--lines progressively getting higher with faded dates and ages scribbled next to each mark. The last date was marked as “June 2018, 17 yrs.”

The bell sounded again from across the house.

Turning to the gun case, the android pulled open the door and took the meager collection of firearms. Given the gunpowder residue he detected on the barrels of each gun, they hadn’t been fired in years. Crouching down, Connor located a small drawer and pulled it open, frowning as he found a collection of childhood oddities crammed inside.

Cheap plastic toys, old gum wrappers, dusty CD’s were stashed away--dated to a time long ago. Reaching down, the android pulled out a series of photos that appeared to have been taken at one of the many cheap kiosks one might find in an arcade.

Connor blinked as he stared into the youthful face of Gavin Reed, arm looped around the neck of a lanky, freckled boy as they made faces at the camera. The android let out a soft, amused laugh at the final image in which the two kids appeared to be attempting to push each other out of the booth--the boy’s hand fisted in Reed’s shirt while fingers yanked at dark brown hair.

“... They were best friends.”

The android jumped to his feet in surprise, shame coloring his cheeks as he turned to the woman leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. He half expected the anger she’d displayed earlier to return in full force having caught him snooping…

Instead, she seemed…

Sad.

“Started dating in high school, actually,” Sarah smiled weakly, staring at Connor’s shoes as she tapped lightly at her arms. “It was really fucking weird, to be honest, finding out they were infatuated with each other. I watched both of those boys grow up, so it was like my sons--”

Shaking her head, the woman pushed off the doorframe and crossed to the silent android, steps slow and nervous.

“What was your son’s name?”

Sarah frowned and glanced up to him as she came to a stop, gnawing her lip as she searched every freckle of his face. Memorized him. Remembered him. A hesitant hand reached up and pressed to his cheek, tracing her thumb across his cheekbone.

“They really got him right…” She whispered wettly, tears threatening the rims of her eyes.

“Ma’am?”

“When I saw you on TV… When I saw you, I-I knew what they’d done,” She whispered, voice wavering as she cupped his other cheek. “God I hate you. Hated you.”

Stress levels rising, the android took a step back from the woman, watching as her hands fell with a delay to her sides.

“I’m afraid I don’t under--”

“Richard. My son’s name was Richard.”

Richard?

Glancing over her shoulder, Connor frowned deeply as Hank motioned frantically for the android to follow.

“I-I’m sorry for your loss. Excuse me a moment while I speak with my partner,” Connor excused himself, abandoning the crying woman in quick strides to the hallway. Before he’d even made it to the door, Hank grabbed his arm and yanked him deeper into the house without a word.

“I didn’t mean to make her cry, Hank! She said I--”

“Look.”

Connor blinked as they came to an abrupt stop at the end of the hallway, doors on either side of them. Following Hank’s gaze led him to a photo that hadn’t been taken off the wall--a senior photo--of a young man decked out in his robes.

A young man that might as well have been himself.

“I… It’s a coinci--”

“Analyze the freckles, Connor,” Hank muttered, crossing his arm as he stared at the photo. “Same freckles, same dorky smile, same fucking eyes…”

The android frowned as his eyes traveled the freckles of the teen’s face and neck, stress levels rising as he matched each to his own. Neck, cheek, jaw.

All the same.

Fuck, it explained the woman's reluctance to look at him while they had been speaking. Her anger at seeing his face on TV, let alone her doorstep.

Gavin's continued hatred of him this long after the revolution.

But...

“How is this--”

Connor jumped as the bell from earlier sounded again, louder than it had been from across the house. Stepping around the shocked Lieutenant, the android approached the final door in the hallway and hesitantly pushed it open into a well-lit room.

A wheelchair sat across from him, positioned to face the window and out into the cloudy afternoon behind the small ranch.

A figure sat hunched down in the chair, blankets pooled across their chest while their finger fiddled with a bell attached to the rightmost arm. The light of the window cast them in black, drawing their shadow across the room.

Slowly, the android approached, fingers fiddling with the coin in his pocket as he attempted to lower his stress levels.

It was only as he came to a stop at the figure's side did he stop, eyes widening as his fingers stilled.

“Amanda.”

The woman’s eyes no more than flickered in reaction to his whisper, staring dully out the window. There existed no anger, no spark, no wit, no love. She was much older than the handler that he’d betrayed so long ago. Age had sunken the skin of her cheeks and carved lines into what had once been a pretty face.

Gray existed in the poorly kept coils of her hair. That which hadn’t been adequately secured back was pulled behind her ears and over an old scar traveling the nape of her neck.

She was merely the shell of the woman, the A.I. who had loved and tormented him those many months ago.

The woman’s lashes fluttered as she shifted her gaze up to him, struggling even at such a small effort. A soft sigh passed over her lips as her fingers twitched and the bell struck through the house one more time.

Crying for help.

 

“Oh god, Amanda…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! How am I doing so far? Did you think the reveal was obvious or too sudden?
> 
> If you liked what you read, please consider dropping a kudos and/or comment below!
> 
> Thank you!


	17. Spider Web

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this chapter. We're getting close to the final act y'all. Buckle down.

 

As a non-deviant android, there existed very few things that ‘bothered’ the RK900. He was a creation intended for bloodshed and battle—made to hurt, tear, destroy.

In the few months of his employment within the Detroit Police Department, he had seen the horrors that everyday humans left in the wakes of their own destruction. The visceral, barbaric reminders that they had as much capability as the RK900 to draw blood. To kill.

Blood of red and blue had passed his lips during investigations. The faces of every victim he’d come across—bloated, disfigured, perfect—remained forever in the records of his brain and behind the darkness of his lids. These faces, these people did not bother him. Their deaths did not turn his proverbial stomach or still his steps when approaching a crime scene.

Tina Chen was different.

The voice of the coroner was drowned out as he stared down at the corpse laid out across the metal table, pale beneath the cool lighting of the morgue. Decomposition had been abated with the cold temperatures in which she had been stored--but did nothing to keep the blue tint of death from creeping into her features.

Had her lips not wrinkled like petunias or the gaunt shadows of death not existed in the valleys of her cheeks, Tina might as well have been sleeping.

“Blunt trauma to the back of the skull was the ultimate cause of death,” The coroner android spoke, staring down at the tablet in their grasp. “Signs of struggle are apparent in the chipping of her nails and bruising located on her forearms. Gunshot residue was also found on the tips of Mrs. Chen’s fingers indicated the discharge of her service weapon.”

“The weapon was not found at the scene,” RK900 muttered, gaze traveling down the Y-shaped stitching that ran between her breasts. “Protocol insists that officers report any use of their service weapon immediately after resolution. No such report was filed.”

The coroner hummed as they continued to scroll down the results of the autopsy, either unaware or uncaring of the other android’s rising stress levels. “May I make a presumptuous guess, Detective?”

RK900 tore his eyes away from the dead woman and glanced to the other android. “By all means.”

“I don’t believe the location in which Officer Chen’s body was found is the same location in which she was murdered,” The android muttered, holding out the tablet for the detective android.

Accepting the device, the RK900 cleared the warning of his rising stress levels from his vision to focus instead on the autopsy photos. Large wounds littered the woman’s stomach before they had been sewn shut post-autopsy--long gouges with surgical precision.

An android, likely.

 

_“Or a human with gloves."_

 

**< Software Instability ^>**

**< Instability Patched>** 

 

“The mutilation of her abdomen was indicated to have been done post-mortem,” The other android explained as RK900 continued to scroll through the photographs, lips pressing firmly together. “The blood that had pooled beneath Mrs.Chen were results of this mutilation. If I were to make an assumption, these cuts were made to properly stage the scene in which she was found.”

Syncing with the tablet, RK900 pulled up photos from the actual crime scene in order to get a better view of the blood splatter littering the area. “These patterns are inconsistent with that of any gunshot or stabbing,” He muttered, zooming in on the wall nearest the body. “They appear more indicative of intended splatter.”

“As if our murderer used their hands,” The coroner agreed, folding their arms behind their back. “Only Officer Chen’s blood was found on the scene. We have been unable to find any reasonable DNA evidence that might indicate another human.

“It is my belief that Mrs. Chen’s time of death was approximately 6:30 pm. Her body remained un-mutilated for another hour--during which time I believe she was moved to the secondary location.”

RK900 offered the tablet back to the coroner as he turned back to the body, staring down at it with a soft grimace.”Officer Chen’s shift ended at 4 pm. This was done during off-duty, civilian hours.”

“The toxicology reports you requested do not contain the red-ice substance you asked to be included in the testing,” The coroner continued, minimizing the photos as they brought up the written report. “Aside from low-blood sugar, Mrs.Chen was in perfect health, and no substances were found in her blood aside from traces of nicotine.”

“There were no substances found on Officer Chen’s clothing?” RK900 asked, glancing toward another table on which contained plastic bags harboring the dead woman’s personal effects.

“No red ice. Blood, of course. No biological substances that did not belong to Officer Chen-herself,” The coroner explained, placing the tablet down near the woman’s feet as they rounded the table. The RK900 frowned, swallowing the sudden desire to swipe the tablet if only to offer the woman small respect as a person rather than a corpse.

 

**< Software Instability ^>**

**< Instability Patched>** 

 

“Actually, there were several strands of cat hair found on the Officer’s jeans,” The android called over, back to the body as they fished a small bag out of a pile of evidence. “Could possibly be from her own ho--”

“Officer Chen is allergic to cats,” The RK900 interrupted, brows rising as he glanced up from the body and to the coroner. Stepping back, the detective rounded the table and joined the other android in front of the bagged evidence. “May I?”

  
Opening the seal, RK900 took up a pair of surgical pliers and plucked a single strand of hair from within. Even the coroner android appeared taken aback as the cold metal of the tool was lifted to pink lips, and the hair pressed to the flat of his tongue.

RK900’s LED went red.

 

 **< Software Instability ^>  
** **< Software Instability ^>  
** **< Software Instability ^>**

**< Instability Patched>** 

“Apollo.”

“Excuse me?”

The coroner jumped as the plier fell to the table with a loud metal bang, startling the quiet in which only the low hum of the refrigerator disturbed.

RK900 didn’t reply to the confused request for clarification as he turned immediately on his heel toward the door. “Please send the full report to my email. I will forward it personally to Agent Perkins and Detective Reed.”

“I-I… Okay?”

The coroner was left baffled as the detective abandoned them to the company of the dead.

Apollo was a house cat. Tina must have been at Gavin Reed’s apartment shortly before her death. The idea did nothing to relax his red LED back to concerned yellow.

RK900 moved blindly through the office as he headed for the parking lot, focusing most of his processing power into hacking the CCTV security footage of the cameras that babysat Gavin’s neighborhood. His systems slammed warning after warning into his vision, alerting him that he was acting outside of his mission parameters.

That a warrant and request through the proper authorities was required for such a claim.

 

**< Software Instability ^>  
**

He disregarded them.

It was easy enough to access the video feed for the day of Tina’s death. Fast forwarding through the video with inhuman speed, Nines scanned every frame as he pushed out into the chilly air of the parking lot.

Gavin’s apartment building centered in the image, displaying bustling activity in the small cafe that sat beneath. When he had first been allowed to visit the detective’s home, he recalls the man jokingly muttering about being addicted to caffeine yet never visiting the shop below.

Something about weak, overpriced gutter dribble.

An access door sat to the side of the shop, allowing tenants to the apartments above to unlock the door with a code and enter a stairway leading inside. The video footage displayed regular tenants coming and going about their afternoon business.

At approximately 5:23 pm, Tina Chen entered the shot and punched in the code allowing her access to the stairway. Nines’ pace picked up into a job across the lots cracked asphalt as his stress levels hiked.

The woman made no further appearance, having likely entered Gavin’s apartment and waited for him to get back. While she had never abused this privilege, Tina had allowed herself into the detective’s apartment often enough-- typically when the man was deserving of a dressing down.

The door of Detective Reed’s car gave an audible click as it unlocked, allowing the focused android to drop quickly into the driver’s seat.

Upon reaching a frame noted as 5:58:39 on the timestamp of the image, the RK900’s LED stuttered as grid lines began to surround his vision.

  
  
**< Software Instability ^>**  
**< Software Instability ^>**  
**< Software Instability ^>**

 

An RT600--blond, beautiful, unassuming--entered the image, pressed her hand to the access panel and entered the building. As the frames continued to speed by past the estimated time of Officer Chen’s death and the discovery of her body, neither woman emerged from the building.

He stopped the recording upon witnessing himself half-carrying a distraught Detective Reed into the building.

Shutting down the feed after saving key images, the android closed his eyes against the bright red bars that surrounded him. The spider-webbed crack that sat nearest his knee taunted him with warnings of mission parameters and unstable code.

The Chloe that had murdered Tina Chen knew where Gavin Reed lived. What she hadn’t expected was someone else to be waiting inside the apartment.  
Gavin was in danger.

Opening his eyes revealed only the half-empty parking lot of the morgue and the high, hanging reminder of how much time had passed since he’d abandoned the Detective at his loft.

  
  
**< Software Instability ^>**

 

With a sharp turn of the key, Nines threw the car into reverse and peeled out of the parking lot as he pulled up Gavin’s contact information. After several rings, the call went to voicemail.

 

_‘You’ve reached the phone of Detective Gavin Reed. Please leave your name and a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. If this is an emergency, please dial 911.’_

 

Gritting his teeth, Nines slammed his foot down on the pedal and raced through Detroit’s afternoon traffic, staring unblinkingly ahead as he sped. Traffic lights proved inferior to his superior programming, changing to green at every flicker of his burning LED.

The murderer had visited Gavin’s apartment.

_Gavin was in danger._

_Gavin was in danger_

Turning into the detective’s neighborhood, Nines tried again and again to reach his cell--the call dropping each attempt to voicemail.

_‘You’ve reached the phone of Detec--’_

Pedestrians jumped in surprise at the screech of the vehicle's tires as he pulled into the alley at the side of the apartment building. Warning signs of ‘illegal parking’ were batted away as the android threw open the door and ran at a sprint toward the access panel to the apartment.

Hacking the terminal took a millisecond longer than he would have preferred. Throwing open the door, the android ignored the sound of shattered safety glass as the force of the motion slammed the hinges past their limits.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Nines began to scan the hallway and felt his thirium pump stutter upon noticing the droplets of blood that led down the hall towards Gavin’s door. A poor attempt had been made to scrub them away from human detection.

 

**< Software Instability ^>**

 

Had his focus not been on a grieving detective over the past few days, the android might have noticed.

He should have noticed.

Nines came to a halt as he reached the door to Gavin’s apartment. System warnings flared as he bit into his tongue at the sight of the door left open past the frame. As self-repair began to clot away at the thirium washing over his mouth, the android hesitantly pushed the door open past the grid line threatening his vision.

Bright, crimson blood painted the tiles of the entryway.

 

 **< Software Instability ^>**  
**< Software Instability ^>  
** **< Software Instability ^>**

 

Taking a hesitant step through the door, the android’s scans stuttered as his stress levels peaked at dangerous levels. The biocomponents in his chest sent a warning of overheating as he stepped through the red, vicious trail of blood that led deeper into the apartment.

Entering the central hub of the loft revealed a head of blond hair facing away from him against the couch. Chloe. Blood painted up her arms that sat folded  politely in her lap, drawing random patterns across the pastel of her skirt. A bullethole that blossomed like a flower sat in her shoulder above her breast.

And staining the toes of her heels was the crumpled, broken body of Apollo.

At the sound of his steps, the RT600 turned her head mechanically toward him and stared with a vacant glaze to her eyes.

“He attacked me when I came in,” Chloe explained, voice unnervingly calm when blood coated her hands. “I didn’t want to kill him. Gavin liked cats.”

Nines grit his teeth as he stood his ground in the entryway of the living area, ignoring the advancing gridlines at the corner of his vision as he stared the other android down.

**< Software Instability ^>**

 

“Where is Gavin?”

“He was never allowed to have pets growing up,” The android reminisced, reaching down to stroke her fingers down the broken spine of the dead animal. “Gavin would sometimes bring home strays and hide them in his room. We always found them, though. Promised that they went to other families.”

The RK900’s stress levels screamed warning after warning as he took a step forward, shoulders tense and steps mechanical.

“What have you done with Gavin?”

Chloe sat back up and looked back at him, a touch of sadness to her expression.

“I’m here to protect him.”

“By killing his cat?” Nines asked, voice breaking with a mechanical titter as he found it harder to keep his systems from crashing.

Chloe didn’t appear bothered. “He attacked me the moment I stepped through the do--”

“And the woman, Tina Chen? Why did she die?”

The android watched as he approached cautiously, following his every movement beyond the lovely curl of her lashes.

“She wasn’t supposed to be here,” Came Chloe’s simple answer, fingers returning to fold into her lap. “I only wanted Gavin. The moment I entered the apartment, and she met my eye, she had to go. It’s rather unfortunate.”

Nines gaze flickered down to the dead cat, unable to question the strange drop in his stomach as his other biocomponents struggled to breathe.

 

 **< Software Instability ^>**  
**< Software Instability ^>  
** **< Software Instability ^>**

 

The woman rising her feet brought his attention back to her. “And now I’ll need to kill you too. You know too much.”

Before Nines had a chance to start his pre-construction protocols, twin probes shot from a device that had been hidden at the woman’s side and embedded into the chassis of his stomach. A static, scream ripped of its own volition from his mouth as electricity surged into his systems, shutting down process after process.

Soft carpet did nothing to lessen the impact of his knees hitting the floor, vibrations climbing up his body and into his teeth.

“You really are the final piece to the puzzle,” Chloe called from above him, watching the crumbling android with foggy disappointment in her eyes. “Without you around, Gavin will have nowhere else to go but ho--”

The current frying his systems came to an abrupt stop as a gunshot rang through the small apartment. Catching himself on his hands, Nines began a soft reboot as the boom of shattering wood sounded. Blue blood splattered across the back of his hands, and a bloody heel rolled into his vision.

Unable to control the shaking of his limbs, Nines looked up as the disguised Chloe he had met at St.Judes walked over, gun still trained forward toward the body of the RT600. Gavin’s gun. A perfect bullet hole sat in the center of her forehead, limbs twisted at awkward angles against the broken coffee table.

Her eyes were much the same as they had been in life--vacant and unseeing.

  
“Are you alright, RK900?” The new Chloe asked, crouched down to help him rip the prongs of the taser from his torso.

 **< Software Instability ^>**  
**< Software Instability ^>**  
**< Software Instability ^>**

**< Software Instability ^>  
**

 

Nines didn’t respond, pushing himself shakily to his feet as he stared down at the carnage of the living room. As blue thirium hit the crimson red of Apollo’s blood, inky viscera formed against the pale carpeting.

Gridlines caged his vision, pressing more than ever against his limbs. Instability messages lined the bars of his cells and warning of failure strengthened the locks. However, centered above the body of Apollo existed the webbed crack in his code.

 

_Gavin was in danger._

 

A spectral limb lifted as phantom fingers curled into a tight-knuckled fist.

 

_Gavin needed him._

 

Throwing his weight forward, the ghost slammed his knuckles into the wall. The webbing extended to the surrounding bars.

 

**_Gavin needs him._ **

 

With the lift of his leg, Nines smashed his heel into the center of the grid and shattered the walls completely, raining broken code away from his vision to the floor below.

The gun fell from Chloe’s hand as fingers wrapped around her throat. Slamming the woman’s back against the sharp edges of the kitchen island, Nines tightened his hold and pressed his chest close to her own.

“Where is Gavin?” The android snarled, shaking bodily as his fingers squeezed her weak throat.

“H-he left,” Chloe stuttered, reaching up to scratch and twist against his hold, eyes pleading. “An automated taxi came for him about two hours ago. I made to follow, but I picked up the RT600's approach from the signal I had picked up a few days ago. I wanted to stop her before--”

_Gavin was gone?_

“Where did he go?”

Chloe smiled weakly, settling her fingers around his wrist after giving up on breaking free.

 

_“Home.”_

 

\------

  
The worn wood of the headboard pressed lovingly into his spine as he threw back another swig from the bottle, savoring the burn that traveled down his throat. The motel’s old, starchy sheets scratched at the exposed flesh of his calves as he crossed his legs.

An old movie played on the shitty television at the front of the bed, left at the lowest volume that whispered across the room. Made Gavin feel a little less lonely. Less shitty.

Closing his eyes, the detective’s head fell back against old floral wallpaper, focusing his attention on the sound of the occasional car passing on the outside freeway as he savored the pain against the back of his skull.

Choosing to stay the night at the motel that existed at the border of Port Hope had been a spur-of-the-moment decision in his spur-of-the-moment trip. Long ago he’d promised himself that he’d never return to this fucking town and now?

At least he had one more night.

A short glance to his phone revealed a dozen missed calls from his partner, all abandoned before a voicemail could be left. Guilt churned the alcohol in his gut, shooting warmth into his cheeks as he swallowed down the lump in his throat.

The desire to call, to assure, to hear the plastic fucker’s voice was quickly battled away as the man dropped his forehead to his knees. He couldn’t drag RK900 further into this mess, not when it centered around no one but himself.

Scrubbing his fingers into the comforter of the bed, Gavin bit on his tongue as he held back his tears. Fuck, he felt like a kid again being this close to home. This close to a history he had been more happy to keep buried beneath all the other shit that made up his character.

It was as the first sob stuttered through the grit of his teeth that a curt knock sounded at the door.

Shooting up, the detective stared with bloodshot eyes as a second knock rattled the wood of the door after a few seconds of silence.

Swallowing his fear, Gavin approached slowly and pressed nervously against the door, peeking through the old peephole that gazed out into the gravel parking lot.

Bright red light filled his vision before the metal lock of the knob snapped with a sharp, powerful turn. The detective had only a moment to throw himself out of the way as the door slammed open against the old plaster of the motel wall.

Large hands curled into the fabric of Gavin’s shirt and yanked him with inhuman strength onto his toes. The man let out a yell as his shoulders were slammed against the back of the door, struggling to find purchase as he was held well above his height.

As the spots fade from his vision, Gavin’s jaw dropped in shock as he stared into the face of a very present and incredibly pissed RK900.

“N-Nines?”

“Why the **fuck** did you leave?”

“What are you--” Did he just say fuck?

Gavin cringed as he was jostled against the old wood of the door, reaching up to wrap his hands around the android’s wrists.

“Why did you run?” Nines snarled, pale blue coloring his cheeks as his icy eyes sparkled with fury. The detective struggled to breathe as he watched a pale tear dropped from the android’s dark lashes and run a rivet down the curve of his nose.

“Nines…”

“Why did you run?” The android asked again, grip loosening as he lowered the human back to the ground. Hesitantly, Gavin reached up and cupped Nines’ cheeks, marveling as more tears fell across his knuckles.

Nines’s voice broke with a statistic shutter as he pressed his cheek into the warmth of Gavin’s palm, closing his eyes. _“Why did you leave me behind?”_

The detective tensed up as the android surged forward, wrapping his arms around the human’s smaller frame. Tears began to soak Gavin’s collar as Nines buried his face against his neck, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Hesitantly, Gavin reached up and began to draw slow circle against Nines’ shoulder, swallowing against the lump in his throat as he struggled for what to say. He hadn’t accounted for this, at least not so soon.

And now…

“Nines… Did you deviate?”

Pulling away from Gavin’s shoulder revealed the lovely blue flush of the android’s cheeks, wet with exhausted tears. Pink lips pressed together as they stared each other down before Nines offered the simple tip of his head in confirmation.

“It’s all your fault, meatbag.”

For a third and final time, Gavin was grabbed and bodily lifted to the wood of the door. Any protest or expletive that threatened the tip of his tongue was silenced as a mouth crashed against his down.

It was hard to determine the emotion that coiled through his gut, especially with grief and guilt claiming residency. But fuck did a toothy grin pull at his face as a fire was lit within his stormy eyes.

**Joy.**

“Fucking finally,” He breathed against RK900’s lips, wrapped his legs around the android’s waist as he fisted his hands into Nines’ dark hair. Surging forward into the kiss, Gavin was uncaring of every click of their teeth as the android’s tongue pressed to his own--hungry, possessive, alive.

Supporting the detective’s weight with fingers pressed into the dimples of his ass, Nines pulled their bodies away from the wall and turned for the bed. A soft kick with his heel swung the door closed, clicking into the frame as the detective was dropped bodily to the mattress with a bark of laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how about THEM APPLES! It took 17 chapters for this big hunk of metal to deviate and I'm so proud of this boy.
> 
> What'd you think?
> 
> If you liked what you read please consider dropping a Kudos and/or a Comment below!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	18. Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long and strange one. Have fun.

 

 

The stone tile of the mansion’s foyer was cold against his toes, bare soles slapping loudly as he ran. Moonlight streamed through tall, curtainless windows; shadows stretching high into the vaulted ceilings but kept at bay by pale, blue twilight.

His breath came out in ragged huffs as his heart-- _not his heart_ \--pounded in his chest. Blood--his blood, _thank god his blood_ \--screamed through his ears as panic lanced pain through his skull with every step, with every pulse.

“Elijah!”

His voice bounced off the walls as he stormed through the house, echoing his furious, ghostly howl back at him. No response came to his call.

Turning down a hallway, Gavin set his eyes upon the heavy wood door of his brother’s office and shoved his way through, unsurprised to find the desk unoccupied. Hot air rushed from his nose in angry puffs as he passed the unused desk--polished, unscratched, new--focused on the anomaly at the far end of the room, nestled among warm, rustic furnishing.

A tall, imposing metal door stood half open; heavy bolts offsetting the delicate, wood paneling of the bookshelf to its right. A biometric hand scanner lay to the side, flashing red warnings of ‘door ajar, locking mechanism disabled by the administrator.’

Chill walked fingers up the teen’s spine as he stepped over the threshold and to the top of the cement stairway leading down into his brother’s lab. Only a moment’s hesitation had him bracing his hand on the doorway before he descended, albeit with cautious steps despite the continued pounding of his heart.

Not his heart.

“Elijah?”

“In here, Gavin.”

His brother's voice carried down a corridor to his left, bright light extending from the open doorway to his lab as he worked on god-knows-what during the unholy hours of the morning.

Swallowing the persistent lump in his throat, Gavin ambled towards the beacon of light as he reluctantly avoided looking into any of the rooms that preceded the lab. While most were used as storage for the various parts and tools commissioned by his brother, the metal limbs of androids mid-construction were never a pleasant sight.

His brother’s back was turned to him as he entered, typing expertly at a keyboard set below a wall of monitors. A metal table was stationed at the room’s center, blessedly empty of the many monsters that lurked the lonely lab.

A bathrobe was set over his brother’s shoulders, hair pulled into a messy bun in haste. The warm, fluffy fabric of the robe did little to disguise the man’s bony structure; prone to missing meals when he was obsessing over his experiments.

“You need to cut your hair. It’s getting too long,” Gavin muttered, crossing his hands across his torso to rub at the goosebumps climbing his arms. Fuck it was cold down here.

A warm, affectionate laugh shook Elijah’s shoulders as he continued to type, frantic pace slowing as his chin jerked slightly to the left. A pair of glasses sat low on his nose, sliding down his curved bridge.

“I like it longer. Don’t hate on personal fashion, Gavin.”

“That’s not fashion. That’s you being too lazy to care about hygiene,” Gavin huffed, rounding the table. Elijah paused in his typing and reached out to pat a folding chair set to the side; a suggestion.

Gavin refused.

Drawing his hands back from the keyboard, Elijah sighed and swiveled his chair around to face his brother. “What’s wro--?”

The metal table let out a horrific, echoing clang as Gavin dropped the thirium pump he’d been carrying, anger coloring his cheeks pink. Blue blood coated his hands and painted terrible splotches down the front of his pajamas.

A line appeared at the corner of Elijah’s mouth as he took in his younger brother, gaze flickering across the azure stains that covered the teen’s pajamas.

Removing his glasses, the elder brother let out an exhausted sigh as he kneaded his fingers into his eyes. “It’s not a toy, Gav--”

“Why does it have her face?”

Dropping his hand back to his lap, Elijah frowned up into the angry face of his younger brother. There was a hesitation to respond that set Gavin’s already frayed nerves on fire-- anger’s invisible hand provoking him forward few steps as his fingers curled into fists.

“Gavin--”  
“Why does it have Chloe’s face?”

A beat of silence.

“I did it for you.”

The lump in Gavin’s throat grew larger as he stared down at his brother, incredulous light flickering in his eyes. He said nothing as the elder stood and adjusted the robe around himself as he crossed over to the pump leaking residual thirum in a slow puddle across the stainless steel.

“What a waste,” He tsked, shooting a disapproving glance towards his uncaring brother. “These prototype parts don’t come cheap, Gavin.”

Gavin’s teeth clenched. “Why? Why her?”

“When I was beginning to design the RT600, I’ll admit that Chloe’s face existed in my mind from the first line of code,” Kamski hummed, picking up the device and turning it over in his long fingers. “Mind you, this was long before she left you. Left us. I tasked myself with creating the perfect android--one with a social intelligence program that far surpassed that of its predecessors.

“So I studied,” Elijah hummed, turning to glance to the teen watching the slow turn of the pump with a fixated gaze. A soft, affectionate smile pulled at his lips as Gavin’s eyes flickered up to him, frowning in contrast. “Every interaction, trait, inflection. If I were to create something human, I had to understand what made a human, human. I’m afraid my greatest companions have always been that of machine--but watching the way she cared for you...

“I knew it had to be Chloe.”

Gavin’s brows furrowed, clearly unconvinced by the vague explanation. “Why did Chloe leave?”

Elijah shrugged, placing the pump back to the table and wiping his fingers across the side of his robe. “Her resignation letter was on my desk one morning, and her bags were packed. I had no intention of terminating her employment despite our many disagreements--she was good for you. And, selfishly, I liked having someone around who was unafraid to challenge me.”

Raising his hands, Gavin stared at the blue tint of his fingers. His stomach rolled at the idea of having to return back to his room and face the crumpled, dead form of the android staining his rug.

Of Chloe.

Not Chloe.

“I don’t want it.”

“I’m afraid she’ll be sticking around for a while,” Elijah hummed, apologetic inflection lifting his tone. “The RT600 will be going public in the next month, and I need to make sure there are no further bugs to work out. I can limit the RT600’s daily interaction with you, but her priority is your protection and welfare.”

Gavin followed Elijah’s gaze back to one of the monitors lining the wall, noting a display panel titled ‘RT600 - “Chloe”’ and subsequent nodes. All shined green as processes and vitals were displayed in scrolling text beneath their individual model number. Task lists and their various completion rates followed.

Only a single string of digits shined bright red -- ‘severe damage to component #2886, replacement necessary. Shutdown in 00:00:00.’ flashing beneath. The task ‘Check on Gavin’ sat incomplete beneath the warning.

Gavin’s lips pressed together, cheeks blotchy as his anger began to fade. “You can’t just… replace people, Eli.”

Meeting his eyes, Elijah smiled and reached out to smooth a thumb across his brother's cheek, smearing thirium in a line beneath the shadows of his eyes and faded freckles of his childhood.

“Come.”

Even if he’d steeled his heels to the cold floor of the lab, the warm hand that took his own tugged the teen toward the door. Terrible apprehension deafened the low hum of the basement as blood pumped through his head, teeth biting into his tongue.

Pressing closer to his brother, Gavin shuddered as he was led to a door at the end of the hall. Cool air rustled the pair’s clothing as a pressure lock was released at Elijah’s touch, heavy steel panels sliding noiselessly into the wall.

Bodies lined the walkway of the storage unit; Androids--unfinished, skinless, or simply deactivated.

“Do you know what these are, Gavin?” Elijah asked as he led the younger teen down the row in slow, observant steps. His eyes sparkled as he looked over the androids, smiling softly to himself.

“Robots.”

“Commissions,” Elijah corrected, stopping in front of one of the more completed bots. Releasing Gavin’s hand, bony fingers reached up to snag the pale chin of a blond male, turning his slack face upward to allow the pair a better view. “PL600. Commissioned by Robert and Blair Gregorovich, founders of Gregorovich Biomedical.”

“So what? They paid extra for a sex andr--”

“This was created to emulate and take the appearance of their deceased son.”

Mouth snapping shut, Gavin’s frowned, staring up at the android. Without the LED, he might as well have been a man asleep upon an inhuman meathook.

“Why would they--”

“Human grief and tragedy can push many into making irrational or desperate financial decisions. After publications about the RT600 passing the Turing test became widespread, I had many investors coming to me with similar requests. Morbid, perhaps, but is it not a source of comfort to wake to a familiar face?”

Gavin frowned as the chin was released, turning away to look at the other androids lining the walls of the storage unit. Fuck they looked like real people.

“...This is fucked up.”

“It is,” Elijah agreed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robe as he continued his slow path down the row. “I’ll admit my goals are misaligned to those of my investors. I’ve no interested in preserving the memory of the dead when I can breed immortality. Create beings that had no prior basis beyond their code.”

Coming to a stop a the end of the row, Elijah tapped his fingers to a touchpad set into the wall. Gavin jumped as one of the skinless bots jerked to life behind him. He blushed red at his brother’s laugh, throwing his robed arm over the teen’s shoulders after rushed, anxious steps closed the distance.

Flesh began to spread across the android’s limbs; pale, rosy, lifelike. Blue eyes turned to the pair as blond hair materialized and fell against small shoulders. A smile was pulled across pink lips as fingers pressed the pale locks back to the android’s skull and fashioned a bun.

“You should go get washed up,” Elijah suggested, giving his brother’s shoulders a squeeze as the new RT600 retrieved her uniform from a nearby storage unit, dressing quickly. “It’s late.”

Gavin frowned, breaking his trance to look up to his brother. A worried line was set into the corner of his mouth, teeth kneading into his lip.

“Elijah.”

“Hm?”

“If I were to die, would you replace me? Create a fake Gavin?”

As Chloe walked over and took gentle hold of the teen’s hand, Elijah smiled and pressed a kiss to Gavin’s temple, tracing his fingers up the scar behind his brother’s ear.

 

  
“Never. There’s no replacing you.”

 

\-----

 

  
Gavin laughed as Nines pressed him further into the mess of sheet, fingers tugging into the messy coif of his hair. A tongue sought to silence him, hungry desperation drawing the pair into each other after months of unspeakable tension.

The cold press of skinless fingers was an odd sensation as they brushed along the detective’s throat; holding him, choking him.

“What do you want, Nines?” Gavin breathed against the android’s mouth as he tugged him down, closer. A shuttered raked up Nines side as his lip was caught by the detective’s teeth before surging back into the kiss.

“What do you want?”

 

_< You.>_

 

A fire erupted in the detective’s mind as hot metal stabbed through his skull. A shout of pain shattered the quiet intimacy of the room as he ripped himself away from the android, curling in on himself against chasing hands. An old pressure built in the bridge of his nose as he doubled over, gritting his teeth as his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth.

Reaching up, Gavin pressed his fingers to his face as he rode out the waves of pain.

“Gavin?” The hand that touched to his bicep was violently shrugged off as the detective recoiled. “What can I do to help?”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Gavin croaked, squinting an eye open reluctantly to gaze at the blood coating his fingers. His stomach dropped as copper washed over his tongue. “Just… for now. Fuck.”

“I’m sorr--”

A bloody hand was raised to effectively silence the unneeded apology.

“Shut up, Nines,” Gavin groaned, stumbling to his feet. The bed shifted behind him as the android rose as well, albeit a respectful step away. “This isn’t your fault.”

Footsteps followed the detective as he moved into the dingy bathroom of the motel and fumbled for the faucet. As water began to blast into the white basin of the sink, Gavin cupped his hands beneath the spout and splashed his face. His stomach rolled as he watched the water stain rose pink as it swirled down the drain.

The detective jumped as a hand towel was offered to him by the silent android, worry knitting his dark brow. With a small grunt of appreciation, Gavin resumed cleaning away the blood after soaking the cloth, attempting to stem the bleeding.

Nines was silent from where he stood at the doorway, keeping silent vigil. Until--

“.... It’s thirium, isn’t it?”

“It’s blood.”

“The red ice.”

Glancing up into the mirror revealed the deep frown marring Nines’ beautiful face. Arms folded across his broad chest, the android watched the human unblinkingly as he leaned a shoulder into the chipped wood of the doorframe.

“What are you on about?”

“When we kissed, I--”

Shutting off the faucet, Gavin turned on his heel and leveled the android with an unimpressed stare. The pink flush of his cheeks and bloody towel pressed to his face lessened the effect substantially. “Did you fuckin’ scan me while my tongue was down your throat?”

There was some level of comfort in the soft, blue blush that washed across the android’s cheeks, although it did little in stopping him from proceeding. “It wasn’t my intention. I’m having difficulty controlling my processors due to…Due to... ”

Leaning back into the sink, Gavin let out a soft snort, cringing as pain lanced through his head. “Emotions are a bitch,” He muttered into the wet fabric, cherishing the small uptick of the android’s lips.

“Yes,” Nines agreed, smile falling as quickly as it had appeared. “... Your blood--”

“You’re right,” Gavin interrupted, turning toward the mirror as he dropped the towel back into the sink with a splash. Leaning towards his reflection, the man tilted his chin up to check on his nose. He was relieved to find the bleeding had stopped for the time being.

“Just… let me wash up, and I’ll tell you what I can.”

Nines hesitated as he met Gavin’s stare in the mirror--but only offered a curt nod before retreating back into the motel room.

  
Closing his eyes, a soft groan pass over the detective’ lips as he pressed his forehead to the blessed chill of the mirror’s glass. He didn’t want to have this fucking conversation. Lord, he was hoping to never have to even think about the mess of a past he’d been so happy to abandon.

But he knew running wasn’t an option anymore.

Gavin had walked himself back into a trap of blue blood and twisting metal--but it wasn’t as smothering this time around. Strangely comforting to know that another would be occupying the weight of his history, at least by a secondhand retelling.

Leaning back, Gavin frowned at the dark circles marring the soft flesh of his eyes and the blotchy paleness that lived in his cheeks. The pain has subsided into a dull, ever-present ache that he’d long learned to ignore. A beacon of agony that pointed for home, for comfort.

Nines was light enough for now.

Pushing away from the sink, Gavin reemerged into the central area of the motel room and frowned at finding the bed remade. The android sat on the edge, long legs pressed tightly together as he twisting his fingers into an uncomfortable knot.

Gavin’s heart lurched as Nines eyes raised to meet his own, staring at him with so much emotion that the detective had no choice but to press forward. Watched the worry melt away behind reverence as he straddled the android’s thighs. Savored the breath of laughter as he ghosted his fingers across the freckles of the android’s cheeks.

Hummed appreciatively as large hands anchored to his hips as he kissed into that stupid, lopsided smile that had stolen his heart months ago.

“Gavin.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Gavin admitted against the android’s lips, nose brushing the android’s as he pressed forward, curling his arms around a long neck. A disapproving noise rumbled in Nines chest, contrasting the slow circles his thumbs pressed into Gavin’s hips.

With stupid, superior android strength, Gavin’s was disappointed in being forced to break the kiss as he was bodily lifted and dropped onto the shitty comforter of the bed. That disappointment was quickly forgotten as Nines crawled over him, long legs pressed to the detective’s thighs.

A laugh was startled out of Gavin when a long tongue traced across the lightning strike scar centered upon his face.

“Fucking deviants."

  
Nines smiled down at the grinning human, eyes falling shut as finger returned once more to map out the freckles of his face.

“We need to talk, Gavin.”

“I know.”

Letting out a sigh, Gavin let his fingers trace back to the short hairs at the nape of Nines neck, closing his eyes as a mouth pressed to the side of his own.

“When I was born, I was born blue,” Gavin muttered with some effort, spurred onward as kisses trailed along his jaw. “Well, not blue-blue, more a gray--Whatever. I was born blue. I couldn’t breathe without assistance, and my life expectancy plummeted to days.

“Hypoplastic left heart syndrome is what they called it. Half my heart didn’t develop properly and wasn’t pumping enough oxygen into my lungs. Had my first surgery when I was two weeks old and my third by my second birthday. Didn’t fix shit but I no longer looked like a fucking corpse.”

A pleased sound left Gavin’s throat as a kiss was pressed to his open mouth, savoring the reward of a tongue pushed into his mouth. “Nines…”

“Keep going,” The android murmured, LED cycling yellow as he broke the kiss much to Gavin’s vocal dissatisfaction.

“Fine,” He grumbled, curling his fingers into the android’s hair to steal a chaste kiss. “So they fixed my heart as much as they could, and I was put on a waiting list for a heart transplant. ‘Course I was pretty fucking young, so it’s not like a heart was arriving any time soon. Elijah is five years older than me and, since I couldn’t really leave the house considering I was all sorts of fucked up, we were pretty close.”

“He was fucking brilliant from the start,” Gavin hummed, staring up at the android as he traced the constellations traveling across the pale expanse of the android’s face. “Ran all his tutors and mentors through the gauntlet he was so smart. Already had his GED by the time I was five and caught the attention of Professor Stern.

“‘Course while all this is going down, I’m just basically dying slowly as the easy fix on my heart wasn’t keeping up with the drugs I was forced to take. Had my first heart attack when I was six.”

After the red flash of an LED, the sad smile that tugged on his lips was kissed away. A soft noise was pulled from Gavin as he was kissed, fingers trailing across the back of the android’s shoulders before pressing to his chest.

Nines pulled back as a finger tap-tap-tapped at the regulator centered in his chest, brows furrowing as he stared down at the cheeky grin drawing lines in the detective’s face.

“That’s when Elijah buckled down and began designing me a heart. One that didn’t require a waiting list. One that would give me the opportunities at life that I’d been robbed of from day one. You can thank me for this, by the way.”

“A bio-component?”

A nod. “Mm. Elijah’s original goal was to create bio-medical components for human use. To fucking shakedown and revolutionize modern medicine just because I was born with a fucked up heart. Flattering, really.

“Professor Stern became a staple in our household during the design and construction of the heart. Mom and Dad weren’t really fixtures and were more than happy to pour any money Elijah requested into his lap from wherever the fuck they were. And, I guess, so long as I was still breathing they weren’t concerned about me.”

“Amanda Stern?” Nines asked, long fingers trailing along the detective’s jaw.

“The one and only. Brilliant lady but a fucking hardass,” Gavin smiled, letting his eyes fall shut as a thumb traveled to his lips. “So they designed the heart--however, the one thing they wanted to avoid was introducing a battery into the device as it would likely require maintenance sooner than later. That’s when Elijah and Professor Stern developed thirium.”

“And no replenishments were required in that time?”

“It was introduced into a closed system that cycled continuously and filtered through the pump,” Gavin shrugged. “I don’t know the mechanics of it, but I can tell you that it wasn’t blue. It was only changed to blue later on for the comfort of human consumers since it would probably freak out Average Joe if his android got injured on the job.”

Nines brows furrowed as he stared down at Gavin, fingers stilling in their exploration of the human man. “... Are you implying that Elijah Kamski is the creator of red ice?”

“I ain’t implying shit. I’m informing,” The human huffed, rolling his eyes. “I don’t think he intended to make the most dangerous fucking drug in Detroit, but someone figured out how to synthesize it from the more potent blue blood of today. But, whatever, the point is--”

“I could taste traces of it in your blood, Gavin,” Nines interrupted, worry clear in the yellow of his LED and the downward pull of his lips. “You implied that the regulator in your chest runs on a closed syst--”

A palm was pressed the android’s mouth, muffling his voice as the detective huffed in annoyance. “Just shut up and let the cyborg talk,” He grumbled, grabbing the android’s jaw with a twist of his wrist and pulling him down into a short kiss; a soft apology.

“So they did the surgery, and it's like I was never sick to begin with,” Gavin explained, closing his eyes as relief knitted his brows. “Aside from recovery, I wasn’t in pain for the first time in a long time. I could go outside and just be a fucking kid.”

A hand cupped his jaw, trailing a thumb across his cheekbone as he turned his cheek into the gentle touch.

“When the public learned of what the prodigy Elijah Kamski had done, he had stupid amounts of publicity and investors lining up at the door. I’m still thankful to this day that Professor Stern had convinced our parents to keep me anonymous in the tabloids. Even if she hadn’t, I’m sure Elijah would have been fucking furious if my name were printed.

“But…”

Gavin sighed, pressing his hands to Nines chest as he urged him back. Sitting up, the detective let out a soft groan and rubbed his face with his fingers as exhaustion began to battle away the lust-filled adrenaline setting his muscles abuzz.

“I dunno. It didn’t take, and there were more surgeries. More...things stuffed into me in an attempt to get my body to sync with the biocomponents that were keeping me alive. I never needed to wait for Elijah to come to me--whenever I’d get sick, I knew I’d be on the table again.”

Dropping his hand, he frowned up into the attentive face of the android, watching the slow circles of that yellow LED.

“It’s when I was at my sickest that I was just so fucking done with surgeries,” Gavin admitted in a whisper as if the intimacy of the room wasn’t intimate enough for a such a confession. “I just… I wanted to die. I didn’t… By that point, I was nearing twenty surgeries in my lifetime, and I saw nurses more than my friends.”

Gavin closed his eyes as a thumb trailed the soft flesh below his lashes. Reaching up, the detective closed his fingers around the android’s palm and drew his hand back behind his ear. “That’s when I had the final surgery. A series of nerves that connected my brain to the components Elijah had installed--one that translated the electric signals from the devices to my brain and vice versa.”

Opening his eyes, Gavin met Nines frown with one of his own as fingers traveled the scar running from the nape of his neck to behind his ear.

“...This is…”

“I’m basically the prototype android,” Gavin huffed out a laugh, pressing his thumb into the synthetic flesh of the android’s wrist as they continued to watch one another. “The guinea pig that sparked the creation of every god damn bot on the planet.”

“You’re RA9?”

“Nah,” Gavin hummed, turning his head to press a kiss to the center of the android’s palm. “I ain’t android Jesus Christ.”

 

“RA9 is in my head.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	19. Bell Tolls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out so much longer than I thought. It originally had a flashback of Gavin + Connor's meeting in the breakroom during the game but I cut it as it was mostly just the scene rewritten with extra detail. 
> 
> We're getting closer, kiddos. (I also added a chapter countdown. There MAY be 25 chapters but we'll see as we get closer)

  
“I hope you like decaf. The doctor says I shouldn’t be consuming caffeine with my heart problems.”

Hank blinked out of his daze as he glanced up from his seat on the couch, taking an extra second to focus on the woman. Sarah set a mug to the coffee table before him, offering the ghost of a smile in reflection to his heavy set frown.

“‘Course--” She begins, taking up her own mug as she settles into a nearby armchair, shotgun leaning nearest her elbow. “--Doc’ doesn’t need to know about the cup of normal coffee I sneak every Sunday. Woman’s gotta have her vi--”

“How are you so calm?”

Sarah paused, the lip of the mug pressed to her own as she glanced to Anderson.

“About?” There was no confusion in her request for clarification, watching him like a hawk.

“About Connor.”

The Lieutenant could tell that she had been attempting to harbor friendly conversation to abate the awkwardness that had settled over the little house. The two humans had abandoned Connor to Amanda’s company, one shell shocked and the other…

Surprisingly calm.

Hank knew-- _Lord he knew_ \--the cost of losing a kid. The saying ‘no parent should ever have to bury their child’ was one that sat tattooed to his very soul; a piece of advice, a warning, a promise he’d never share when noticing any parent holding their kid in public. Cole’s death had soiled the man he used to be, twisting him into a bitter, vindictive, tired version of himself.

Even years later, when he’d see these parents with a small hand in their own, the most sordid type of jealousy would flutter in his chest. Whispering against his ear that it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair that Cole should have been ripped from this world. It should have been them. Should have been him.

Cruel thoughts.

Never spoken and pushed away in the twisting, cold graveyard of his soul. Buried in his own plot next to his son’s.

But the idea of seeing Cole’s face on another… To know that someone--that Kamski--had so callously stolen the identity of a loved one for mass production...

He couldn’t figure out if it was comforting or horrifying.

“You’re acting like I didn’t know before today,” Sarah muttered, finally taking a ginger sip of her coffee as she watched the man. “The deviant hunter is famous. I watched the revolution from this very chair.”

“But… your son--”

“My son has been gone for longer than I’d had the opportunity to know him,” Sarah hummed, leaning forward to place the mug on the table. “He was a good kid. Smart, handsome, incredibly kind. He was preyed upon for that kindness more times than I could count, coming home with split lips and black eyes.”

The woman chuckled to herself, and she reached up to rub at the soft flesh beneath one of her lids, staring forward without seeing. “I told him that violence only begets violence while patching him up every time. But that damn kind boy promised it was worth it for those that mattered. To those who needed a hero.”

Hank frowned, twisting his fingers in his lap as he watched woman reminisce. The question he wanted to ask--that he was going to ask--tasted cruel upon his tongue.

“How did Richard die?”

“Officially, he drowned,” Sarah murmured softly, turning her eyes away from the fog of her memories and to the officer beside her. “Law enforcement was unsure whether to label his death accidental or suicide, but all of my pleas for further investigation were ignored.”

The easygoing timber of her voice waned as color built in her cheeks, eyes going glassy as she was likely traveling back to that time. It was a familiar expression to the Lieutenant, bringing with it the old temptation to nurse a bottle.

“I’m sorr--”

 _“I don’t want your fucking pity,”_ Sarah hissed, turning her chin sharply to glare at the man in a sudden flare of anger. The drop of a mask. “I’ve heard far too many apologies in the last eighteen years to stomach anymore. ‘I’m sorry for your loss, I wish there was more we could do’ It’s useless.”

The irritation that had colored her cheeks faltered as her shoulders sagged, face falling into her hand as she kneaded fingers against her forehead. She seemed content to let the awkward silence return, although Hank did not appear to be of a similar mindset.

He knew the cost of wallowing.

“I lost a kid too. Cole. He was only six.”

The woman’s lips pressed into a line as she glanced up, latching onto the soft smile on the Lieutenant’s face as he gazed at his mug upon the table. “If permitted, I could sing his praises for days. He was brilliant little shit and constantly asked me questions about my job no child should think to ask. I think he’d be happy in this new society if he were still alive. Lord, tried having one too many conversations with service bots before they’d deviated.

He was kind. Gentle. Didn’t deserve to die so young.

So, I get it. I understand being fucking exhausted at hearing every motherfucker mourn your loss in conversation, only to go home to their own fucking family. To watch their pity turn to irritation when you don’t get over it fast enough for their comfort.”

Sarah snorted softly and leaned into the arm of the chair, gaze unwavering as Hank turned to meet her eye.

“I won’t take back my condolences, but I… I get it.”

The woman nodded, remaining silent as she continued to watch him. Judge him. Flicker over the somber lines and exhausted shadows in his face.

“When I saw Connor on the television,” Sarah began slowly, choosing her words carefully. “I did not recognize my son. The funny thing about passing time is that, as much as you tell yourself it will never happy, memory begins to become fuzzy. I still listen to the last voicemail he sent me long ago just to remember his voice.

But the boy, the man, I saw leading the army of androids on the screen wasn’t my son. I’ll admit that they looked incredibly similar, but the idea that they might be identical was unfathomable.”

The woman hesitated, brow dimpling as pain washed like the tide across her expression. “And… And then--When the president visited Detroit during the summit negotiations with Markus…H-have you ever taken a good look at Connor’s face?”

Hank said nothing, watching as Sarah raised a shaking hand and drew her finger down the side of her jaw. “W-when Richard was twelve, he had gotten into a fight after school. As I said, I was used to cleaning up his cuts and scrapes, but this fight had gotten particularly nasty. One of the little fuckers had brought a knife to a schoolyard brawl.

Three stitched to the flesh of his jaw. God, if they’d aimed a few inches lower, he’d have died far sooner… Richard jokingly called that pale little scar a battle wound--rather proud of it he was… S-so, during the summit hearing, the camera zoomed in on Connor and…”

“Same scar,” Hank murmured as her voice grew silent, eyes falling to her knees. “Jesus.”

Sarah swallowed a lump in her throat, expression growing dark. “While Richard spent every waking hour at Gavin’s side, he was not allowed onto the Kamski residence. Of course, he would sneak in with the youngest Kamski’s aid, but he’d never said anything about meeting Elijah. So how would the inventor know those exact details unless he’d seen my boy up close?”

The lieutenant tensed when her gaze quickly rose to meet his own, voice heavy and chilling.

“And why did Gavin run?”

“I’m sorry?”

Sarah’s teeth grit angrily, jaw set. “Around the time of my son’s death, Gavin disappeared. Most of the town assumed he’d holed himself up in the Kamski manor but…. But I knew he was gone. He must have known the circumstances of Richard’s drowning and ducked out of town. Fuck.”

Hank’s brows furrowed as he leaned back in his seat, drumming his fingers against his thigh. While his relationship with Gavin in recent years was far from amicable, the guy was a fucking enigma when it came to his past. He was always the guy who signed up to work holidays, coming up with far-fetched after far-fetched excuse over the years.

Long before Cole’s passing and before his own promotion to Lieutenant, Hank’s relationship with the prickly then-beat cop was closer to something of friends. It had taken much strong-arming and puppy eyes from his toddler to drag the guy home for a holiday dinner.

“I’m not used to this sort of thing,” Hank remembered Gavin whispering against the lip of his beer, the two having retired to the backyard as his wife put Cole to bed. “I haven’t had a family dinner in, fuck, a decade. Maybe even longer...”

What had crossed Gavin’s face then was not an expected sorrow, loneliness, or reverie. Hank could never forget the pull of fear and regret that lined the kid’s wet lashes, sapping the drunken flush from his cheeks.

At that time, he hadn’t understood--but also didn’t push. It wasn’t his business. Everyone had darkness in their past that was better buried.

But now? It was starting to become a little clearer that maybe he should have prodded, rather than clap a hand on the guy’s shoulder before retreating inside to a slice of pie and restless toddler.

“....Do you have the police report?”

Sarah glanced up out of her own angry cloud of memories, unease flickering in her expression.

“... Yes,” She whispered, pushing herself up with a small grunt. “It took me years to petition the local police department for release of the files, but I kept getting met with excuses… It wasn’t until I came into Amanda’s company that they finally released the documents to me.”  
A holo-tablet was retrieved from a nearby dollied tabletop, lighting up at the press of her fingers.

“Can you tell me about you and Amanda?” Hank asked as the files were pulled up and pressed into his hands. Brushing past his knees, the woman took a seat on the couch at his side, staring at the autopsy photos that accompanied the reports. “She’s reported deceased so… Why is she--”

“It’s… complicated,” Sarah whispered, leaning back in the seat. “I didn’t know her before ...everything. I was… I was grieving alone in a town against me. Everyone accepted my son’s death for how it was reported by the police but… Fuck, I couldn’t. I was angry. Fucking furious. So I…”

The woman grew quiet, fingers clenched into the hem of her shirt as she glared at the coffee table before them. He chose not to break that silence, allowing Sarah time to find the courage to continue her story. Instead, he turned his attention to the file, reading through what was reported by responding officers and coroner.

Right off the bat, he could tell that the files were heavily redacted before their release. Whether that be the identity of certain officers and civilians or details of the crime scene, blanks filled much of the report. Time of death was reported differently between the police and coroner by a matter of days, as was the location of the body upon retrieval.

Dismissing the written reports, Hank instead turned the photos and found a lump swelling in his throat as he stared at Connor’s dead face. No, Richard.

There was no mistaking the swollen flesh of a drowned body, putrid in pallor and touched blue by death. It never got easier to look at the ways that death disfigured what had once been a healthy person--but enough features existed in the body to recognize identity.

“....Those are defensive wounds on his hands,” Hank murmured, flipping to a parallel shot of both the palm and knuckles of Richard’s left hand. “Unless he sustained these before his death, you may be onto something.”

Sarah said nothing, only offering a small nod as she stared at the images of her dead son with a set jaw.

Reluctantly, Hank returned to a still shot of the dead man’s head and shoulder, staring into the glassy-eyed face of the corpse. Aside from skin heavily discolored by death and prolonged exposure to water, there wasn’t much that stood out to him.

“Zoom in,” Sarah murmured, turning away from the screen to glare at the hearth across from the couch.

After a short glance up to her, Hank obliged and zoomed in on the image, unsure what he was looking for. It was when he got to the boy’s neck that his shoulders squared, eyes widening in shock. Bruising.

“....Those are handmarks,” Hank whispered, horrified in recognizing every digit within the deeply bruised tissue. While humans were inherently delicate, the amount of strength one would need to accomplish that level of bruising was... inhuman.

A wet giggle sounded out of the woman at his side, drawing the man’s attention to the wide grin on her face. Tears wet her bottom lashes as Sarah sniffled and laughed, bringing her hand up to wipe harshly at the few that dared fall down her cheeks.

“I saw those and I knew that I was being lied to,” She whispered, pain lacing with anger in her voice. “I saw those blatant bruises, and I knew that no one was on my side. No one cared that my son was dead. Everyone was paid off to ensure that the Kamski name remained untarnished.

So I went over looking for answers. Banged and screamed at that fucking gate for hours. Had Kamski’s fucking android asking me to leave over the intercom. As if I didn’t deserve being told to fuck off in person.”

Sucking in a breath, Sarah fell back against the couch and leaned her shoulder against his own, glaring at the fists curled in her lap.

“And then I met Amanda. Actually had the courtesy to make the walk from the manor to the front gates. I think she was sick at the time as she was using a can, but she made the trip all the same. Seemed worried. Guilty. Told me I shouldn’t be here. I had some colorful language in response to that.”

Her shoulders shook as she laughed softly, wiping another tear from her cheek with her knuckles.

“But… She was kind. I wasn’t expecting kindness,” Sarah whispered, turning her nose to look up to him. “Asked if she could meet me at one of our local diners to talk, and I agreed. But… I should have known she’d never show. The way she looked…. Perhaps I’d mistaken paranoia for guilt.

It was a week later that pounding woke me in the dead of night. And… Fuck, she looked like shit. When I’d met her, she was so pretty and elegant, but she looked disheveled. Like she’d escaped the beast's maw.”

Hank frowned. “Did she say what happened?”

“No. But the android with her knew a thing or two,” Sarah said. “You ever seen a Chloe model, Lieutenant?”

“I have.”

Sarah nodded. “This one was different. Dark hair, civilian clothes, and spoke with a conviction I’d never heard before in an android. I let them in and helped her set up Amanda in Richard’s old room while I fetched the first aid kit. But… there was no wound to clean or sickness to tend to.

Amanda was just… gone.”

“Where is this Chloe now?” Hank asked, unease setting his nerves on fire as he set the tablet on his lap. “Did she tell you anything?”

“No clue where she went. Asked if I knew where Gavin Kamski had gone,” the woman muttered with a scratch to her jaw. “I think she half expected to find him stashed here and seemed disappointed when I admitted to having no idea of Gavin’s whereabouts. Promised me answers if I looked after Amanda while she was gone.

But she was the first person to admit that Richard’s death was no accident or suicide. That something had happened to him and Gavin. She never confirmed the actual events before disappearing, only pushed a wad of cash into my hand.”

Sarah laughed. “And suddenly I was being paid with Kamski money for my silence, just like the rest of this fucking town. So I stayed silent, using the money to take care of Amanda as her state degraded. She used to be able to focus on the television and write letters to no one, often about her life and work. But as the years went by she recoiled more and more into herself to the point where it’s a blessing if I can get her to chew.”

“Connor saw those letters. It’s why we came,” Hank frowned.

“When I saw Connor on the television… I knew that Chloe wasn’t coming back and that I had to take matters into my own hands. So I took all the letters that Amanda had written, all the evidence I had against Kamski, the police report and got in contact with the FBI,” Sarah said, face darkening.

“They sent out a beady-eyed little man who spent an hour in my home staring hungrily at the photos of my son, while only asking about Gavin. He was an asshole.”

Ah. He was familiar with that description.

Hank snorted. “Agent Perkins?”

Sarah perked, glancing up from her lap in surprise. “You know him?”

“Oh yeah,” Hank hummed, offer the woman a small grin. “Punched him twice in the past year.”

The prideful tone of his voice drew a barking laugh out of the woman and a friendly squeeze to his bicep. “If you didn’t have pictures of my dead son sitting in your lap, I’d offer to buy you a drink, Lieutenant.”

Hank chuckled, cheeks dusting pink as he reached up and scratch at the nape of his neck. “Bastard had it coming, trust me.”

“Well, he never came back either. Said he’d contact me if there were any updates on the case, but that was a year ago,” Sarah sighed, dropping her hand from his shoulder to his lap. “And then you guys showed up… Don’t suppose you’re going to promise me answers and bail too?”

“I’m not promising you anything,” Hank assured, offering an apologetic smile. “We’re just learning about this shitshow now. But if we do come across anything, I’ll cont--”

 

Ding.

 

Both humans paused, glancing back to the entrance of the room as the bell’s chime tapered off. Worry began to brew in Hank’s chest as the bell rang again. Ding.

And again.

Pushing to her feet, Sarah made to move around the couch but froze in her step as the bell’s ringing became insistent. Unstopping. Maddening.

“What the fu--”

Hank jumped to his feet and took after Sarah as the bell cut off, just in time to hear the heavy thump of a body sound from the closed door at the end of the hall.

 

“ **Connor**!”

 

\-----

 

The android’s LED spun red as he watched Hank leave with Sarah, catching the woman’s eye as she stole a glimpse of his face. There was something sad, something angry in the line of her frown as she pulled the door shut behind her, dark eyes turned to the ground. His eyes.

Letting out a breathless sigh, Connor turned back to the only other occupant in the room.

 

Amanda.

 

His stress levels hiked as he stood behind the sunken shoulders of the woman, just out of her line of sight should she ever find the strength to turn her head. Wisps of her hair floated gently in the breeze of a nearby radiator, softly hissing in the unnatural silence of the room.

Connor’s steps were mechanical as he rounded the chair and fell to a crouch in front of the woman, brows knitting as he stared into the vacant face of the woman who haunted his mind. Perhaps not the same woman.

It did nothing to settle his stress levels.

“You don’t know me, do you?” The android whispered, searching Amanda’s face for any sign of recognition or that she might have heard him. Nothing. “My name is Connor, I am prototype model RK800 produced by Cyberlife. I was created to hunt and eliminate deviant rebellion.”

A soft smile pulled on the android’s face as he watched the woman’s pupils flicker. “I failed you, Amanda. I… I’m sorry.”

There was no reaction to his apology, unneeded as it was. Only the continued stare that passed through him to whatever was going on in her mind. Connor’s stress levels wavered as he took in the shell of what had once been his handler. Not his handler.

The Amanda that he’d known had been an AI, produced in the image of the professor before him. Why he had found the need to apologize went beyond his understanding, likely something he’d need to mull over later. But… There was a strange, horrifying comfort in being within her presence again.

The android might never forget the cold, resentful storm that she-- _that Cyberflife_ \--had left him in to die due to his failures. But he would also never forget that the Amanda AI had been the first kindness he’d met upon his activation. In the real world, he had been a slave to his programming and subjected to cold instruction from uncaring humans.

But Amanda?

She had been his purpose and his reward. The hand that dealt his mission and the smiling reward of his success.

Connor would never regret deviating and helping the revolution succeed. He would never, could never, regret burning away the vicious AI to live a life of his own volition.

But he missed her and the visceral happiness that came with her proud “Well done, Connor.”

“Are you able to hear me?” The android asked, placing a tentative hand upon her knee. He might have taken her silence as answer enough had he not felt the surprising shift of tendons beneath his palm. “I apologize if this is patronizing, Professor. Can you blink?”

There again was the flicker of pupils as they latched onto his face, lips falling open into the barest part as she stared. Silence hung in the room, the radiator continuing to hiss gently before dark lashes fell shut in a slow blink.

“Can you blink twice?”

A pause. A blink.

Disappointment hiked his stress levels as he stared, LED continuing to circle a troubled red. Sighing, the android sat back on his haunches as he ran a hand through his hair. Perhaps this was pointle--

 

_Ting. Ting._

 

Connor’s head jerked up as he glanced to the source of the noise, eyes widening. Amanda’s finger twitched against the side of the bell on her armrest. The cheap metal gave off a soft, tinny sound as her finger tapped against it.

“Brilliant!” Connor’s LED flickered yellow as a wide, lopsided grin pulled onto his face, wires lit aflame with emotion as pride swelled in his chest. “Can you tap three times if you understand me?”

 

_Ting. Ting. Ting._

 

A soft static tittered through his throat as a soft laugh rose, LED settling into a solid yellow. Shifting onto his knees, Connor stared up at the woman in wonder as she watched him silently, finger still against the side of the bell. Waiting.

“One tap for yes. Two for no,” The android instructed gently, hands curling against his thighs. A soft ting confirmed Amanda’s understanding.

He nodded.

“Did Elijah do this to you?” Connor asked, head tilting to the side as he watched the woman’s brow twitch in her otherwise slack face.

A single tap to the bell was his answer. **Yes**.

“Was this unwilling? Was he trying to hurt you?”

Two taps. **No**.

“So, you chose to let….this happen to you?”

 **Yes**.

Connor frowned, fingers twitching against his thigh as he itched for stimulation. The coin weighed heavy in his pocket but remained unretrieved. “What happened? Medical records around the time of your reported death show that you were terminally ill. Were they falsified?”

 **No**.

“So how are you alive?”

Amanda’s lips gave a soft twitch, but her finger remained still on the bell, continuing to stare down at his beneath heavy lashes. Blue dusted Connor’s cheeks as he realized how stupid of a question that was given the limitations of their conversation.

“Elijah tried to save you, didn’t he?”

 **Yes**.

“And he failed.”

The woman’s lips twitched again as she tapped three times against the bell, response beyond the parameters of their game. It was easy enough to translate for the android.

 **Perhaps**.

“Gavin has that same scar behind his ear,” Connor frowned, tilting his head to once again observe the pale, white scar that trailed up the woman’s neck. “Is that what has caused this condition?”

Amanda paused as she stared down at him, eyes widening slightly. Her hand quaked gently as her finger tapped once against the side of the bell.

 **Yes**.

Connor’s brows furrowed. “Did you know Gavin when he was younger?”

 **Yes**.

“Was he sick? Did Elijah save him as well?”

Amanda let out a soft, wheezing breath as she tapped three times against the bell, lashes falling shut in a slow blink.

**Perhaps.**

Connor’s lips pressed into a thin line as he watched the once lax woman tremor, lips continuing to twitch in the corners as if trying to find the strength to open her mouth and speak. Dark eyes flickered past her shoulder to the wood of the door behind her, listening to the muffled conversation happening in another room.

The android frowned as he thought back to the haunting image of himself, of not himself, that hung on the wall outside that door. Of the woman’s dead son.

Of Gavin’s friend.

“Do you know how that boy died? The one who looks like me?” Connor asked in a whisper, turning back to Amanda to find himself already being watched.

Ting. **Yes**.

“Was he murdered?"

**Yes.**

“By Elijah?”

**No.**

“Gavin?”

Amanda did not move to tap, staring down on him as another soft sound struggled up against her throat. Terror dropped Connor’s LED into a solid red as he met her stare, eyes widening at the insinuation.

“Amanda, did Gavin murder his friend?”

Nothing. Her hand continued to shake.

Pushing up off of his knees, the android reached over and placed his hands gently on Amanda’s shoulders, teeth gritted as he gave her a small shake. Her head bobbed as she brought her chin up to stare him in the eye.

Connor’s voice came out far harsher, far more desperate than he’d anticipated. “Please, Amanda. Innocent people are dying, and I need to know as much information as I can! Did Gavin murder his--”

A hand rose and closed like a vice around his wrist.

 

“Amanda--?”

 

\----

 

Elijah let out a yell of frustration as he lashed out at the metal table of his lab, scattering tools to the floor in a violent storm.

Leaning on her cane, Amanda let out a soft sigh as she watched the man stomp around, cheeks flushed red with anger.

“What if he gets hurt? He can’t just go to a normal hospital or show up to Cyberlife asking for a new fucking heart,” Elijah snarled, running a frantic hand up through the hair at his scalp. “I-I’ll never forgive myself if he dies. Fuck.”

“He’ll be fine, Elijah,” Amanda murmured, fingers tightening and untightening on the handle of her cane. “You said it yourself after the introduction of the array that Gavin wouldn’t require further surgeries. His biocomponents have synced up with his brain activity, and his body is no longer rejecting them.”

Elijah let out a wet sigh as he folded his arms on the table, pressing his forehead to his wrists as he sagged.

The cane let out a soft _click, click, click_ as the woman stepped gingerly over the strewn tools, arriving at his side. A gentle hand pressed to the man’s shoulder.

“You saved him, Elijah. You gave him the opportunity of life. Asking him to return, forcing him to return would be undeserved cruelty,” Amanda whispered, rubbing gentle circles into his shoulder. “There is nothing more to be done.”

Movement drew the professor’s attention away from the grieving inventor and to the entrance of the lab. Chloe paused mid-step as she looked back into the room, face neutral as she looked between the two humans. The sealed door of the storage unit at the end of the hall hissed as it clicked shut.

“I can’t lose him, Amanda,” Elijah murmured, glancing up to Chloe before pushing away from the table and the woman’s hand. Scrubbing his eyes, the inventor frowned as he looked back to her. “Or you… I-I don’t want to be alone.”

A soft laugh ghosted over the professor’s lips, reaching over to tug gently on his arm. Bare feet slapped softly against the tile of the floor as Elijah pressed into her side, burying his nose in her shoulder. The wireframes of his glasses dug into her collar.

“Then save me, Elijah,” Amanda murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of his head as she rubbed his back.

 

“Save me. What else do I have to los--”

 

\-----

 

Connor jerked back as red warnings flashed in the corners of his eyes. His stress levels sat dangerously high, breath coming out in heavy pants as he battled the overheating within his chest. The skin on his wrist had peeled back to reveal the pale white of his skeleton, still clenched tightly in the woman’s hand.

Glancing up, the android let out a horrified gasp as blood dripped over Amanda’s lips, nose bleeding profusely. Her stare was heavy on his face, eyes intense and desperate.

“S-stop,” Connor whispered, reaching past her to hit the bell of the chair. “You’re hurting yourse--”

Amanda’s body jerked as her other hand raised and clamped to his arm, forcing his skin to recede further.

 

\----

  
“This is going too far!”

The door to the lab slammed against the wall as Amanda stormed in, cheeks hot with anger as she zeroed in on the young inventor. Elijah paused in his typing, shoulders sagging as the woman came to a stop behind him.

“It’s necessary, Amanda.”

“Bullshit!” The professor snarled, grabbing the back of his chair to spin him around to face her. “He’s just a boy! What more can you pump into him before you’re satisfied?!”

The inventor glared up at her behind his glasses, pale cheeks coloring with anger at the unspoken insinuation.

“The organs aren’t taking, Amanda! They’re a fucking bandaid to the whole. Once this is introd--”

Elijah went silent as the woman let out a groan, stepping back to sit against the hard edge of the metal table at the center of the room. Reaching up, Amanda kneaded her fingers against the sockets of her eyes.

Her voice was soft and angry as she whispered behind her hand. “The biocomponents you already introduced into Gavin’s system are estimated to last thirty years, Elijah. What you want to do is excessive. Invasive. Have you ever stopped to consider that replacement is far kinder than extension?”

“But that’s just it, Amanda. It’s an estimation,” Elijah muttered, leaning forward to rest his elbows upon his knees. “What if we’re wrong? What if they fail or malfunction? I’m trying to ensure that my work doesn’t--”

“What is the endgame, Elijah?”

The inventor frowned as he watched the woman’s hand drop from her face, staring up at her with a somber disappointment.

“When does this end?” Amanda asked, staring at him unblinkingly as her mouth ticked into a frown. “You’ve bought your brother twelve years and have promised him another thirty. Is that not kindness enough?”

Elijah sighed and reached up to remove his glasses, passing his finger across the red dimples on his nose.

“One more surgery to introduce the RA9,” The inventor murmured, casting his eyes to the floor. “And then I’m done.”

“Can you promise me that?”

Elijah’s lips pressed into an angry line, brows furrowing as he looked up to his professor.

 

“I won’t let him die.”

 

\----

 

Connor tugged on his wrist as Amanda let out a soft choke, teetth stained pink as blood coated her tongue.

He continued to hit the bell, static erupting from his throat as his components overheating.

“S-stop!”

 

\----

 

_A pair of boys running through the manor. A backpack left abandoned._

_Blood dribbling down Gavin’s face as he curled in on himself, screaming._

_Thirium coating the torso of the dead boy, eyes wide as he stared up unseeing._

_The press of her palms to the sobbing teen’s cheeks, words garbled as thumbs brushed away blood soaked tears._

_Reassuring._

_A name. A location._

_Tail lights racing away from the manor and into the brush surrounding the drive._

_A chilly night and two bodies at her feet._

 

\----

 

Ripping his arm away, Connor fell onto his side as he tried to breathe, hands scrambling against the floor as his limbs failed him.  
The door of the room slammed open someone above him, cracking against the plaster of the wall. Heavy footsteps shook the floor beneath him before hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to his knees.

“H-H-Hank.”

The lieutenant was pale with terror as his hands passed over the android’s chest, searching him for injuries. Static erupted from Connor’s wheezing gasp as he was pulled against the man’s chest, shaking in his hug.

“W-We need to f-find Gavin, H-Hank,” The android wheezed into his shoulder, looking past the man. Sarah stood at Amanda’s side, holding her wrist in her own as she pressed her thumb into the soft flesh. Looking for a pulse.

Blood continued to drip from the professor’s gaping mouth, eyes bloodshot as she stared unseeing up to the ceiling. Sarah dropped her hand with the bow of a head.

Amanda was dead.

Connor closed eyes as he continued to shake, focusing on the hand drawing circles on his shoulder.

 

“We need to find Gavin.”

 

And then all was dark.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked what you read, please consider dropping a like and/or kudo down below! I'm looking forward to the end of this fic as I planned the final chapter the moment I even started the outline way back when.
> 
> I hope y'all are enjoying this journey with me.


	20. Scrambled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hi. Has it been two months? Big yikes. 
> 
> I apologize for keeping y'all waiting on an update to this fic. Life got a bit crazy in every regard and I started a new fanfiction 'The Prince & The Reed' which ate some of my attention during that time.
> 
> I promise you that updates will be coming more frequently for /at least/ Daydreamer until we hit that ending. I appreciate everyone's patience!
> 
> Now: 
> 
> Who's ready for the Gavin & Elijah reunion?

 

 

 

“Coffee is not a suitable breakfast, Gavin.”

 

For the first time in a week, the day was looking to be a lovely one. While the lingering chill was ever-present, a cloudless sky soaked sunlight into their skin. It was a blanket. A reassurance. A comfort.

However, no matter how welcoming the morning--or waking to the surreal pleasure of an arm draped across his waist--Gavin felt like shit.

Fuck, he needed to stop drinking.

“What do you know about ‘suitable breakfasts’, tincan?” Gavin grumbled from behind the lip of his mug.

They made an incredibly odd pair within the quiet, cheery diner. The painted flowers dried to the windows contrasted with the heavy, uninviting circles beneath Gavin’s eyes. Additionally, the charming, outdated decor sat opposite the crisp, state-of-the-art android, making Nines stick out like a sore thumb.

Thankfully the most they had to deal with was the few side-eyes of early risers and an overly cheerful waitress. Maybe if he asked kindly, she’d leave the pot of coffee on the table...

“At least eat some eggs,” Nines urged, idly fiddling with the sticky menu that had been pointlessly placed in front of him. A newer, crudely printed sticker had been affixed to lamination, offering experimental thirium-based products.

Nines coffee mug remained empty.

“I’ll just puke it up,” Gavin assured, taking another sip of coffee as he turned his gaze out toward the parking lot. The few cars stationed in the gravel parking lot were covered with dust and salt from the roads. After living for years in Detroit, it was strange to come back to his hometown to find that not much had improved with time.

One would think that given its star resident, Port Hope would have seen a steady influx of businesses and improvements. But, perhaps Gavin wasn’t the only one who had run from his demons and hightailed it as far as he could stomach. It was a place stuck in time, evidenced by the flowers chipping away on the window and the worn, scratched plate placed before him.

Glancing up, Gavin glowered under the smile of the waitress as she placed a utensil set next to his eggs. The refilling of his cup came without question before she was scurrying away back to the counter at the ding of the kitchen’s bell.

“Jesus Christ, Nines,” Gavin groaned, turning his ire from the pale yellow scramble to the watchful android.

“You need to eat,” was Nines simple reply, going as far as to reach across the table to push the plate closer toward the disgruntled detective. “One cannot survive on coffee alone.”

“Fuckin’ watch me,” Gavin replied petulantly, taking up the utensil set with a huff. Unfurling the napkin, he speared some of the eggs with his fork and popped it in his mouth.

It tasted foul to his rolling stomach. He continued to eat anyway under the android’s unwavering gaze.

Silence settled once more over the small diner, broken only by the clinking of plates and the faint sizzle of bacon on a worn, busy griddle. The occasional glances up to the android set Gavin on edge, eyes flickering over to the churning yellow LED at Nines’ temple.

Perhaps that was the loudest thing in this room.

“Got something on your mind, tincan?” Gavin asked, wondering if he’d eaten enough to get the android off of his back. The answer was likely a hard ‘no’ if Nines eyes hadn’t narrowed on the lowering of Gavin’s fork.

“...It’s strange,” Nines murmured, frown deepening as his gaze lifted to meet Gavin’s own. “I’m… It’s just strange.”

“Elaborate.”

“Deviancy,” Nines clarified, saying the word as if it sat as heavily in his stomach as the eggs did in Gavin’s. “I have been deviant for less than twenty-four hours and only now have I had the time to truly reflect on what that means… Before I… I was running on fear and paranoia for both of our protections, but…”

“But now it’s quiet?” Gavin asked, raising his mug as Nines nodded, looking down to his hands.

“It’s hard to put into exact words but…. I did not lack emotional reactions before deviating. Emotional responses are as important as logical responses in many regards, so I am unsurprised by what fear or… happiness feels like. I have feared, I have found humor, I have... loved. But… not at this intensity.”

Gavin’s face grew hot as Nines’ eyes lifted once more to fix upon his face, staring with an intensity that hadn’t existed before today. Before last night. Lord knows Gavin had questioned his own feelings for the android for months now but found the idea of pursuing anything beyond their professional partnership problematic. Abusive.

There may have also existed the insipid inkling of doubt in the back of Gavin’s mind. That should Nines ever deviate, he’d find that he could not stand his inferior partner in any fashion. To know that Nines wanted to stay…

It made Gavin’s stomach flip more than the eggs.

“W-well,” Gavin croaked, mug stuck halfway between his lips and the table. “You best get your feelings sorted for the next few hours. Elijah is…”

The words died on his tongue as his gaze dropped to his half-eaten plate, brows knitting. Fuck… Beyond the phone call the other day, he hadn’t seen his brother since…

“We can leave,” Nine murmured, glancing briefly to the other patrons of the diner as if looking for a suspect.

Gavin blinked. “What?”

“If you are afraid, we can--”

“I’m not afraid,” Gavin hissed, setting his mug down onto the table with a loud ‘clack’. “It’s just … I didn’t want to come back here. I was happy with my life in Detroit, and now it’s turned on its head because of that fucker’s personal pet. I knew those people, Nines. I’m connected, and it makes me sick to my stomach.”

“Why would the Chloe model target people you know?” Nines asked, taking up his untouched napkin to soak up a bit of coffee that had sloshed out of Gavin’s mug.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think your brother might be beh--”

“No,” Gavin interrupted, jaw set as he narrowed his eyes down at his cooling breakfast. “Elijah is a weird freak, but he’s not someone who would dirty his hands like this. He’s not cruel.”

“You’re afraid of him.”

Gavin frowned, glancing up to find himself being studied once more by Nines. The LED at his temple once more rolling a soft yellow, flickering with every process running in the background.

“I’m not--”

“Your heart rate rises whenever Elijah Kamski is mentioned in your presence. When forced to talk about your home, you exhibit the many indicators of fear that I was programmed to look for during interrogations. There is something about your brother that unnerves you.”

“You ever think that I’m just a jealous bastard with a famous, wealthy brother?” Gavin asked, frown softening as Nines’ LED flickered once more.

“No. You aren’t an outstanding actor.”

Gavin snorted and sat back into the old plastic of the booth, fighting the smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. “Shut up and pay the bill.”

Nines smiled, LED settling into a cool blue as he mirrored Gavin in reclining back. “Not until you finished your eggs.”

 

\-----

 

Nines had insisted on driving the short distance from the diner to the Kamski estate. Gavin found no reason to complain.

Leaning into the door of the passenger’s seat, Gavin watched the dead fields fly by, shriveled and brown from the changing seasons.

The silence was thick and awkward as both partners fought against words threatening their tongues but locked behind their cage of white molars. Even the radio had been shut off, the intrusion of morning talk shows or overplayed music left unwanted.

Gavin silently mourned the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, wishing he’d had a smoke before climbing into the vehicle. He was doubtful Nines would be pleased if he lit up in the car.

Maybe he should. The fucker’s overbearing chiding might settle the awkward, stuffy energy in the vehicle into something resembling normal.

“Do you want me to turn around, Gavin?”

“Why would I want you to do that?” Gavin muttered, continuing to watch the fields fly by.

“We could go back to Detroit,” Nines offered, staring straight ahead. “Hand this case over to Connor and Lieutenant Anderson with what we know. You’re compromised.”

“Oh fuck off, tincan,” Gavin huffed, turning his seat to glare at the android. “I can handle a bit of discomfort. I’m unaffected.”

 

“Tina.”

 

Gavin tensed, color draining from his cheeks as he stared at Nines. The cool blue of the android’s LED flickered yellow as he continued.

“... She was your best friend.”

_“Shut up.”_

“You cannot tell me that you are uncompromised by her death,” Nines pressed.

“Shut your **fucking** mou--”

“You said it yourself, Gavin. This case is too close to you. It’s better than you transfer this case to someone who can investigate rationally without being emotionally compro--”

“Shut up, Nines!” Gavin snarled, color returning to his complexion as quickly as it had faded away. That had always been a problem with him, long noted on his DPD record.

Quick to anger.

Well, he had a damn fucking right to anger.

“I want answers,” Gavin hissed, teeth gritted together as he glared furiously at the calm android. “I want to know why I’m being fucking targetted and make sure that whatever the fuck is going on is put to an end. This ain’t a revenge mission! I’m not going there to blast the metal brains out of every Chloe model on Kamski’s estate! But I’ll be fucking damned if I let anyone else I love get done in because I was too cowardly to face this head-on.”

Nines was silent as Gavin slouched into his seat, leaning forward to scrub his fingers over his face.

“Tina was good,” Gavin whispered, voice hitching as he fought the lump in his throat. “It’s not fair. It should have been me.”

“Gavin,” Nine murmured, finally looking away from the road to the human slumped at his side. “I won’t allow any harm to befall you…”

The human laughed weakly as the turn signal sounded. The car turned off the main road onto a paved drive heading up a steep incline. Massive gates sat open, allowing them to enter the maw of the Kamski estate with little resistance

“I should have been dead years ago, Nines.”

The android said nothing, LED red.

It took a good minute of counting his breaths and focusing on the roll of pavement beneath the car’s wheels before Gavin found the courage to sit back up. The sight of the high, cement walls of the mansion made his stomach flip, the tall glass windows watching their approach.

The car gave a gentle lurch as Nines parked, killing the engine soon after to drown them in silence. Gavin was quick to escape, finding himself unable to breathe. Shutting the door with his hip, the detective frowned as he looked past the mansion towards the gardens peeking from below.

The front door seemed a foreign entrance to choose when no more than twenty years ago he would ride down into the gardens to sneak through the back. Even without Amanda’s care or the household staff--long replaced by Kamski’s androids--it stood immaculate and imposing.

“Gavin.”

Blinking, the detective glanced to Nines, who had rounded the car in his silence. A line had been pulled into the android’s frown, self-consciousness and worry clear in Nines’ face.

Gavin remained silent as Nines closed the distance between them, settling his hands against the human’s hips. Allowing himself to be pressed gently back into the window of the car, Gavin let out a sigh as Nines stooped to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I’m here for you,” Nines murmured, leaning further down as Gavin’s hands lifted to the android’s chest. “We’ll stay as long or as little as you say. The moment you want to leave, we leave.”

A hum of approval rumbled in Nines’ throat as Gavin kissed him, sliding his hands over the android’s shoulders to wrap around his neck. It was a tender kiss, lacking in the fiery energy that had drained from Gavin during the drive. It was an embrace, a reassurance, a promise.

Perhaps it was a good day after all.

“So that’s why you two are late.”

Gavin jolted with surprise at the call, pushing Nines away as he spun toward the house. The dark-haired Chloe sat upon the front step, elbows resting on her knees as she watched the two with an amused smirk on her face.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Gavin snarled, further startled by Nines’ polite nod toward the waiting android. Nines’ brows only rose as Gavin pushed past him to approach Chloe, following at the detective’ heel.

“You’re not the only one with unfinished business in this hellhole,” Chloe replied, unbothered as she climbed to her feet, dusting off the back of her skirt. “And who do you think gave your boyfriend a ride here?”

Nines nodded at Gavin’s brief glance, folding his hands behind his back.

“The last time you were around, you stole my gun,” Gavin said gruffly, turning his glare back toward Chloe. “And by ‘my gun’, I mean my precinct issued firearm. My boss will have my neck if he learns—“

“Relax. I left it back at your apartment,” Chloe assured, answering his disbelieving huff with a shrug. “It was a high energy situation, Nines had just deviated, and I had to dispose of a few bodies in case anyone came poking around your apartment.”

Gavin tensed, shoulders locking up. “Bodies? As in plural?”

Nines went similarly rigid in the corner of Gavin’s eye. “… I’m sorry, Gavin. Your cat… When I had arrived, Apollo was already—“

Nines continued to talk as buzzing filled Gavin’s ears, hot anger setting his jaw with a click.

Gavin stormed forward, jostling Chloe as he climbed the stairs towards the front door. The two androids followed hot on his heels, the silence broken only by the crunch of their shoes on the stone slabs. He’d intended to ask Nines to stop by to feed Apollo while he was out of town, calling after he was a reasonable distance out of the city. Lord knows he’d been right on the money about Nines following, regardless. But… to know that not even his home was safe anymore… That even though he’d left, his loved once were still in danger… That his fucking cat was dead.

Gavin was pissed.

Shoving open the front door, Gavin froze in his angry march as a Chloe model waited inside, hands folded politely in front of her floral skirts. Unlike the disguised model that came to a stop at his shoulder, this one was a picturesque version of an ST200.

Blond, rosy-cheeked, always smiling.

Gavin was going to be sick.

“I’m sorry, but you cannot go further without an appointment. Mr. Kamski is a very busy man,” the Chloe chimed, voice warm and welcoming despite her dismissal. “Please come back after you’ve set up a meeting.”

As Gavin took a step forward towards the door leading further into the house, the blond android sidestepped to remain in front of him, smile frozen in her expression.

“I cannot allow that. Please do not proceed further.”

Gavin tensed up as she stared down at him, anger sizzling as cold dread began to swirl in his gut. His hand unconsciously was lifted to his hip, teeth grinding as there was no gun to be found. The only relief he found was in the steady hand that took his elbow, tugging gently to direct him slightly behind Nines.

“It’s alright,” their Chloe--the dark-haired Chloe--assured, approaching the blond with an outstretched hand. “Initiate interface, sister.”

There was no hesitance in the blond-haired Chloe as she placed her palm within her sister’s, LED going yellow as data was transferred between the pair. With one, two blinks of her eyes, the blond-haired Chloe turned to the pair of detectives and smiled.

“You have been granted full privileges to the mansion. Lunch will be served at 12:30 and Dinner at 5:45. As we already have a list of your food allergies downloaded into our cloud network, I will be prepar--”

“I’m not staying that long,” Gavin assured, putting a hand on Nines’ bicep as he walked around him. “Where is Kamski?”

The blond-haired Chloe’s LED flickered yellow a brief moment. “Mr. Kamski is currently in his laboratory. If you would be kind enough to wait in the sitting room, I can retrieve him.”

“Don’t bother,” Gavin muttered, knocking past the smiling android as he entered the house. “I know where to find him.”

  
\-----

  
While Port Hope was a town stuck in time, with the same fading advertisements and shuttered businesses, Gavin barely recognized the home he walked into. Before he’d left, there had at least been touches of warmth that made the house a home.

But this place? It felt… sterile.

The modern-esque, sleek stylings of the furniture and decorations made Gavin feel as if he was trespassing in an art exhibit. As if he might find a tour group ogling a beautiful piece of art in the hallway heading into the kitchen.

The pool was new too. And red.

Gavin suppressed a shutter.

But despite his unfamiliarity with the new decor, Gavin knew his way through the building like the back of his hand. He’d grown up here--spent a vast majority of his childhood cooped up due to illness. Anyone could slap a new coat of paint on the walls, but it was still the same, damned place as before.

Gavin could feel Nines looming close to his back as they walked. He didn’t need to look behind to know that the android was on edge, steps mechanical when compared to Gavin’s determined gait. The click of the disguised Chloe’s heels made up the rear of their party, walking at a leisurely pace, comfortable in the home despite her vocal misgivings.

Pushing open the door to Elijah’s study, Gavin frowned as he entered a room cluttered with papers and tools. It contrasted the tidy, unused office that lived in his memories. Even the rich, polished wood of the desk was concealed.

Gavin wasn in no way smart enough to understand what half of the calculations strewn around the floor meant. A glance back to Nines proved the android just as perplexed as he glanced over the room’s contents.

What hadn’t changed was the heavy, metal security door at the far side of the room. The scanner next to it sat dormant, waiting for activation.

Nines hesitated at the door as Gavin proceeded in, sidestepping a pile of blueprints as he made his way to the door. Raising his hand, he held his breath as he pressed his palm to the scanner. The screen activated at his touch, and a simulated pattern traced his fingers as it registered his identity.

_Bzzt._

  
_**< Access Denied>** _

“What the fuck?”

“He removed you as a registered user after you left,” Chloe spoke from nearby, pushing aside papers as she sat on the edge of the desk. “Elijah was rather distraught when you chose to leave without warning. It changed him.”

 

“You make it sound like I lost my mind.”

 

Gavin spun on his heel in tandem with Nines stepping to the side, LED red as Elijah Kamski himself stepped into the room.

If the years had been unkind to Gavin, they had chosen to gift that extra kindness to his brother. Since he had seen his brother in person, the bony fucker who consistently forgot to eat meals had filled out into a fit, better version of himself. Gone where the sweats and bathrobes, replaced by the stylish clothing that only a wealthy recluse might enjoy.

It wasn’t as if Gavin hadn’t seen his brother in the media during the nearly two decades of non-communication. It was pretty damn hard to avoid news and interviews with the creator of androids. Elijah was, arguably, the most famous man in the United States, let alone the world.

However, to see Elijah in the flesh, standing a few feet away….

Gavin didn’t know how to feel.

“Gavin,” Elijah murmured, staring back at his younger brother with the same frozen shock, albeit tinged with a pleasant warmth. “You actually came..”

Gavin didn’t move as Elijah walked past the two androids, unbothered by the red LED’s that flickered parallel his path. Coming to a stop before the shorter man, Elijah’s grin only grew, eyes watery.

The detective’s’ breath was cut short as he was crushed into a hug, forced to stare up and over Elijah’s head towards the ceiling as the inventor’s face buried into his shoulder. The embrace was tight and desperate, speaking volumes of a touch-starved inventor without friends or family due to his own self-inflicted isolation.

The idiot. Fuck did he miss Elijah...

Hesitantly, Gavin returned the hug, furious with himself as a lump formed in his throat. He would not cry. He was tired of crying.

“When I’d received your call, I found it hard to believe,” Elijah whispered, voice hitching as he seemed to be fighting for control with his own emotions. “Y-you’d left without warning and, no matter how hard I’d searched, I couldn’t find you.”

“That was the point,” Gavin muttered, gritting his teeth as a tear escaped down the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t want anyone to find me. If I’d gone back, I knew there was no way I’d ever leave...”

The collar of Gavin’s shirt began to soak through with tears as Elijah’s shoulders shook. Elijah rocked into him, fingers releasing the thigh bundle they’d grasped onto Gavin’s jacket.

“I could have helped you,” Elijah sniffled, pulling back far enough to rub the tears away from his blotchy cheeks. “Y-you didn’t have to run. It wasn’t your fault.”

Gavin’s brows furrowed, briefly meeting Nines’ confused gaze from over Elijah’s shoulder.

“My fault?”

Elijah’s hands dropped to Gavin’s shoulders, giving his biceps a gently, comforting squeeze. “Richard’s death. If you’d only stayed and spoken to the poli--”

  
**Crack!**

 

For a man suffering from a hangover and the emotional crisis of the decade, the speed at which Gavin pulled back enough to crack Elijah in the nose was impressive. The inventor let out a choked gasp as he hit the floor, elbows slamming into papers as he caught himself.

Blood dripped freely from Elijah’s nostrils before being hidden away by long, pale fingers as he nursed the injury. Gavin chose to feel bad later, cheeks coloring as angry tears ran down his cheeks.

“ **Don’t you fucking say his name**!” Gavin snarled, voicing booming in the small office. “You didn’t know Richard! You have no fucking idea what I did! What you did! Richard didn’t fucking deserve to become fucking _that_!”

Nines stood frozen across the room, LED flickering red as a finger was pointed in his direction. Elijah followed the path of Gavin’s finger, guilt coloring his expression as he glanced back to the fuming detective.

“It wasn’t my intention,” Elijah spoke carefully from the floor, flinching as Gavin took a step towards him. “The prototype was never meant to be produced beyond its initial blueprint. It was designed in a moment of grief! Cyberlife stole my desig--!”

“Fuck you! Don’t feed me that shit! Not after you already did this once with Chloe!”

Chloe stood from her perch on the desk, frowning as she watched the feuding brothers, centering her gaze on the detective. “Gavin..”

Gavin ignored her, eyes only for the bleeding man at his feet. “You can’t replace people, Elijah! Not for money, not for me! Y-you didn’t know him! Y-you didn’t k- **know him**!”

Elijah stared up at Gavin with wide eyes, shuffling backward to try to get to his feet, uncaring of the blood dripping down his chin. “Gavin stop.”

“You’ve t-t-taken everything f-from me!” Gavin continued to yell, grabbing his head with one of his hands as anger and fury beat hot, white pain against his skull. “Y-you c-can’t replace--”

 

“You’re bleeding.”

 

Gavin drew to an abrupt, panting halt as Nines spoke, glancing to the android who hadn’t moved an inch from the entrance of the room. With a shaking hand, Gavin reached up and touched his fingers to his nose, drawing bloody fingers back.

“S-shit,” was all that Gavin could say before pain exploded in his chest, knocking his knees out from under him. Elijah was quick to catch his shaking brother, stumbling under the man’s weight.

Sinking to his knees with Gavin tucked against his shoulder, Elijah turned with a panicked expression back to the two androids. “Chloe! Open my lab! RK900--”

“Nines,” Nines corrected, tone monotone as he watched unblinkingly.

“--whatever! Help me carry him down! We need to scan him now!”

 

_“Nines...”_

 

Gavin stared over Elijah’s shoulder to his frozen partner, wheezing while holding his hand uselessly to his chest. It was only the desperate, wet whisper of his name that spurred Nines into action.

Pushing Elijah gently away, Nines leaned down and tucked his arm beneath Gavin’s knees, hoisting him up into a bridal carry. “I’ve got you, Gavin.”

“I want to go home, Richard” Gavin murmured, closing his eyes as Nines following Elijah through the doorway, stepping carefully down each step into the darkness of the lab.

 

Nines steps were mechanical, LED continuing to blink red. “I’ve got you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close. Just a few chapters remain. Please consider leaving a kudos and/or comment below! It's with y'all's continued encouragement that I've found the drive to finish this puppy! (Eventually. I hope updates will be faster from now on)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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